


The Other Side of the Coin

by amy_lupin



Series: The Other Side of the Coin [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Extramarital Relashionship (Gwen Knows), Heterosexual Sex (Not Too Graphic), Homophobia, Love Triangle, M/M, POV Arthur, References to Depression, Rough Sex, Unadmitted Homosexual Tendencies, Unbalanced Relashionship, non-con, sexual favors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:58:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 129,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amy_lupin/pseuds/amy_lupin
Summary: The story behind the series. When Arthur discovers his own feelings for Gwen and is sure they could never be together, Merlin offers to help him forget.





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me rewriting the series from Arthur’s POV and with a pretty higher rating. **I’m not changing anything from canon series** , I’m just adding in between the scenes. It follows the events from the middle of the second season on.
> 
> Thank you **Matt** for your support. I know you suffered with some of the choices I made here, but you never abandoned me and I can never thank you enough. You always push me to do my best and your contributions make all the difference. Thank you **Lala** for giving this story a chance and for going over it. Your suggestions, comments and kind words helped me make peace with it. Thank you for putting up with all my venting about the series as well! **Lexi** , I hope you get better soon. My work is not the same without your careful editing and I can only hope my readers will overlook the silly grammar mistakes and typos that sure remained (and for which I’m the only one to blame).
> 
>  **Warnings:** I can't warn you enough about the wisdom of reading this fic. There are too many delicate issues here, but if you're willing to go ahead, bear in mind that there was a time when men were selfish in bed, as a rule. They cared for nothing beyond their own pleasure. If a man of high birth forced someone to have sex, he wasn't held responsible for his actions because he was a man and a noble and that was just what high born men did. This Arthur was raised in this time, so it may have reflected in some of his actions.
> 
> That being said, there is a dubious-con and a non-con scene between Merlin and Arthur in chapter three, but there are lots of warnings and you can choose to skip it if you’d like.
> 
> As for homosexuality, it has always been part of history, but it was often swept under the rug. As I see it, someone like Arthur, who had an obligation to his people to produce heirs to the throne, would hardly admit to have those kind of tendencies even to himself, let alone to another. I tried to keep it plausible, though it's hard to write romance at those conditions, so prepare for angst.
> 
> Also, there's plenty of Arwen (ArthurxGwen) here, since I didn't change anything that happened all through the series, but there’s nothing too graphic.
> 
> Just to make it clear: don’t expect me to change anything from canon. If you’ve watched the series, you know canon Merlin takes a lot of shit from Arthur and hardly ever complains. You also know where this is going, although I plan to give merthur a happy ending in modern times.
> 
> There. You've been warned.

Arthur had had plenty of willing serving girls and chambermaids in his bed since he was old enough to know what to do with them. Usually, he did not even have to make any effort to seduce them, they would offer themselves to pleasure him regardless.

As soon as that started to happen, though, he had to seek Gaius's treatment for a rash in his private parts, although he was too naïve to realize there was a connection between those facts. The physician had suitably prescribed him a salve, but not before lecturing him about the most likely consequences of his libertine actions, which was not limited to annoying itching and embarrassing moments like that very one. After that, Arthur had taken certain cares to prevent catching diseases as well as bringing about unexpected pregnancies, such as bedding only the youngest and least experienced of the serving girls and making sure not to spill his seed while still in the act.

Only later he had learned that Gaius also secured matters by administering a potion to said girls to induce miscarriage, at his father’s orders. That knowledge in itself had lessened the frequency of his night encounters, but he was still a young and healthy boy; no one could blame him if he occasionally succumbed to his cravings.

It had come to a stop at some point after Merlin had started working for him, though. To be specific, after the incident with the unicorn.

Not that Merlin had mentioned something of the matter or reprimanded him for it in any way. Quite the contrary, he had never said a word about it and had been careful not to give any indication that he had seen anything too embarrassing, even when he caught them in the act – which happened often, since Merlin was always entering Arthur's chambers without knocking at the least expected hours to perform his duties as his manservant – apart from blushing and averting his eyes from the bed, giving the girl of the moment sufficient time to make herself presentable again.

Still, Arthur had seen how Merlin looked up to him. He had witnessed too many times the hopefulness on Merlin’s face and he found that he wanted to live to the boy’s expectations. He also felt quite protective of Merlin, at times. Mostly when it wasn't he himself who was causing his manservant's distress by ordering him around.

People used to talk about Arthur marrying Morgana, even though Uther never mentioned anything of the sort. She had been there since forever and the fact that she used to beat Arthur in sword fighting when he was a little older than a toddler did not exactly help him falling for her. Fortunately, he would not have to marry any time soon, so there was no point in worrying about it for now. He would deal with it when the time came.

And then there was Guinevere. Sweet, loving, kind-hearted Guinevere. Even when hurting or grieving she had words of kindness to offer, although she was as ready to comfort as she was to reprimand, whatever she saw fit for the time being. She was beautiful inside and out, brave and wise and everything Arthur could ever wish for in a girl. Yet, Guinevere was no common maid. She was Morgana's maid, thus untouchable, not only for him but for anyone in the castle who might've felt tempted by her many appeals. She had the most high post a serving girl could have and had the protection of her mistress, the Lady Morgana.

As the time passed, his affections for Guinevere only grew stronger. He did not realize his true feelings for her right away, but once he had opened his eyes for them, he could not imagine himself with another woman, no matter how compatible was their lineage. Of course it had been Merlin who opened his eyes to that – it was an annoying habit of his, after all, making Arthur see some truths for what they were or simply telling them to his face when he failed to come to his senses by himself.

It would have been perfect if only Guinevere wasn't a maid or if Arthur wasn't a prince. His father would never allow him to marry someone less than a lady and he knew better than to get his hopes up that one day he would change his mind. He also knew that he would do anything his father told him to, even if it meant he would be unhappy for the rest of his life, despite what Merlin believed to be fair or not.

Even though Arthur already knew all that, witnessing the way Guinevere had looked at Lancelot when they were running from Hengist's fortress or the disappointment on her face when the man disappeared the next morning had been too painful. Arthur told himself he must overcome those feelings for his own good, so he forbid Merlin to ever mention that again.

Still, Arthur could not go back to the way he used to be, not after everything he had learned about himself, so he didn't even try to take girls to bed again. He reconciled with the fact that he would have to deal with his body's need by himself until his father decided it was time for him to take a wife.

It was no few times that Merlin had seen him tenting his breeches, specially in the mornings, when dressing him for the day. At first, Merlin used to blush and hesitate at noticing it, trying to postpone the moment he would have to dress his master or finding somewhere to be to give Arthur time to deal with it on his own. As for Arthur, he was used to having a manservant his entire life, so he was nothing but amused every time Merlin reacted awkwardly and he even made a joke or two about Merlin's blatant inexperience with such things.

For this reason, it was quite shocking when Merlin made an unexpected offer one morning, while helping Arthur dress for training.

“Do you want me to– Erm,” Merlin cleared his throat, his cheeks coloring. “Do you want me to take care of that? For you?”

“Take care of what?” Arthur asked, momentarily confused. Sometimes Merlin talked so much in the mornings he found it difficult to follow his words.

“Erm,” Merlin looked pointedly down. Arthur looked down too and found his breeches tenting somewhat obscenely.

Arthur looked back at Merlin, hoping to find his manservant smirking and with a smart witted joke at the tip of his tongue, but found Merlin still blushing and avoiding Arthur’s stare while fixing the collar of his shirt.

“What? No!” Arthur took a step back, suddenly angry. “What do you take me for?”

“Alright, alright.” Merlin raised his arms in surrender. “Just… forget I ever said it.”

“I can't believe the nerve of you!” Arthur paced the room, his lazy morning arousal giving way to outrage. “How could you possibly…” He made a gesture towards his lower abdomen.

“How do you think?” Merlin turned his back on him, busying himself with Arthur's discarded clothes and pulling the dirty sheets off his bed. “The same way you do. The same way I do.” He waved his hands significantly, without bothering to look his way.

“I'm not... like that!” Arthur continued his pacing, still half dressed and barefooted.

Merlin turned his neck to stare at him. “Like what?”

“I'm not the kind of man who... engages in such... vile endeavors!” He eyed Merlin suspiciously then. “Are you?”

He had heard of men who liked to bed other men. Usually older ones, who had a taste for young, pleasant looking boys and would not falter to use their ranks to force them, if they weren't willing. Perhaps they would find Merlin appealing, with his angular face and full lips, but Arthur wasn't like that and he had certainly never taken Merlin to show that kind of tendencies, not after witnessing him flirting so deliberately with Morgana just the other week, presenting her with flowers and everything.

“What?” It was Merlin's turn to sound indignant. “No! I'm no such thing either! I just offered you some release! Cause I'm your servant! It doesn't mean I'd do it to just anyone! God, what do _you_ take me for?” He threw the dirty sheets on the floor and began to make the prince's bed with a furrowed brow.

Arthur stopped, hands on his waist, and considered Merlin's attitude for a while. He _was_ a little stupid sometimes, too prone to speak his mind regardless of the wisdom of doing so, and too selfless to his own good. Maybe he hadn't really meant anything by the offer, as inappropriate as it had been.

“You don’t have to do this.” Arthur said, at last. “I don’t expect this kind of service from you.”

Merlin continued smoothing out the bed covers. “I know,” he said. “I wouldn't mind, though. I– I mean, I’ve done filthiest things for you. Like mucking up your horses or emptying your chamberpot. Besides, I already have to wash your sheets and breeches later, anyway.”

This time, it was Arthur’s turn to blush, though he was quick to mask it with anger. “ _Mer_ lin!”

“What? It's true! And believe me, I don't blame you. I’ve noticed that you haven’t taken any serving girls lately, and I know it probably have to do with Gwen more than anything–”

“Merlin,” Arthur said warningly, but Merlin simply continued talking as if he hadn't been interrupted.

“–but I still think that’s very… honorable of you. That's all.”

“Good,” Arthur said, straightening his spine before the acknowledgment of his change of behavior. “Now come here help me dress my armor. You'll have the whole morning to tidy up my bedroom.”

At this point, there was no sign of his morning arousal and Merlin was efficient as ever. If Arthur was a little embarrassed whenever his manservant's hands came near his crotch, he was sure not to let it show.

.oOo.

Arthur spent that day and the ones following too busy to examine that conversation again, but sometimes he would catch himself looking at Merlin's hands or picturing them when he was touching himself, in the quiet of his bedroom, after blowing his bedside candle. He wondered how Merlin's hand would feel on his skin, if it would feel differently from those of a serving girl.

He always felt ashamed afterwards. He would never had thought of that before, but maybe it was for the best, since it allowed him to take his mind off of Guinevere for a while. It did not make Arthur feel differently about his manservant or any other man. Like Merlin said, it was just about carnal relief, it did not make him any kind of depraved scum, did it? He still liked girls and Merlin knew of it. In fact, Merlin had tried to set him up with girls before Guinevere, like when he lied to the King about Arthur being with Sophia, and had ended up facing the stocks for that. Thrice.

Merlin wasn't anything of the sort either; Arthur knew him too well, he would have noticed that kind of thing, specially when Merlin was the one to help Arthur dress and bathe on a daily basis. Also, Merlin was too innocent.

The truth was that a couple of years ago Arthur would have most likely accepted the offer, despite Merlin been his very male servant, but he had come a long way since then and Merlin was part of the reason why he had changed so much. Merlin was always pushing Arthur to do what was right, to be a better man and a better prince. Now Arthur understood the risks and the costs of acting so irresponsibly. What if he succumbed and someone found out? What if someone caught them in the act? What if Merlin had it slip, even if unintendedly? He was loyal, but he also couldn't keep a secret to save his own life and had a tendency to talk too much. If such a rumor reached Arthur's father or the other Kingdoms, Arthur would be a shame to his family, to his subjects, to his allies and a laughingstock to his enemies. Maybe some noblemen could afford to be gossiped about, but Arthur could not.

Therefore Arthur refrained from bringing that up again and Merlin never said another word about it either, but sometimes he would look expectantly at Arthur after helping him to his sleeping breeches.

“Anything else, Sire?” He would ask with his ever earnest face.

Arthur would look away, then. “No, Merlin. That’ll be all.”

“My Lord.” Merlin would dutifully curtsy and leave Arthur to his musings.

.Merlin.

When the Lady Catrina of the House of Tregor arrived, Arthur was reminded of how naïve Merlin could be before noble beauties after surprising him spying on her. His first reaction was to be angry at the boy for being so foolish. He had advised Merlin to stick to his own level of people, but it soon dawned on him how ironic it was that their situations could be so inverted. Arthur could not stop himself from wanting a serving girl while Merlin couldn't help being drawn to the beautiful ladies of the court. Maybe Merlin really understood how Arthur felt, as he had claimed to.

The matter was soon washed out of Arthur’s mind, though, when things started to get out of control. When Uther ordered the Prince to arrest Merlin for stealing one of Catrina's possessions, Arthur hadn't thought twice before sending his manservant away. He could never do such a thing to Merlin, even if the boy were to be culprit of anything of the sort – he had behaved quite dubiously whenever the Lady Catrina was concerned, Arthur would not have been too surprised if Merlin had acted foolishly. Yet, Arthur did not expect to feel so devastated after helping Merlin escape.

What if Arthur never saw Merlin again? His father was rather adamant about chasing after him; what if Merlin had to stay out of Camelot for the rest of his life to avoid imprisonment – or worse even, death! Arthur hadn't thought of that possibility while ordering Merlin to run away and now he could not help missing him terribly. He had grown used to Merlin's nearness, to his incessant babbling, to his insolent retorts. He had never had a friend and was beginning to think of Merlin as the closest to that he could ever have.

The Prince did not have time to dwell on that, though, since Catrina seemed keen on encouraging his father's worst side, demanding unreasonable tax raises and unnecessarily harsh punishments. Not even Guinevere's approval on Arthur's rebellion had been enough to cheer him up. Arthur was even more devastated when his father disinherited him, revoking his position as Crown Prince in front of his own Knights and subjects!

That night, while preparing to sleep by himself, Arthur considered his options. He had nothing tying him to Camelot anymore. He had always wondered what it would feel like to have no responsibilities, no titles, no expectations upon himself but he had never thought he would feel so lonely and heartbroken. He wondered if he would be capable of fleeing. Maybe he could go find Merlin and they could leave a simple life somewhere, the two of them. He wondered if Guinevere would go with him, but soon ruled that out. She could have run with Lancelot if she wished to, maybe he had even proposed that to her, but she had chosen to stay in Camelot under the protection of her mistress. Arthur couldn't bring himself to make her relinquish that, even if she were to reciprocate his feeling, which she clearly did not. It would have to be just Merlin and Arthur.

Then, as if emerging from his very thoughts, Merlin was back, coming out of hiding from under Arthur’s bed and claiming that he had never left. He also said he had a plan to rid them of Catrina's influence on his father and, although it seemed too dangerous and too bewildering to be true, Arthur would trust Merlin with his life a hundred times over.

When it proved to be successful, Arthur couldn't stop feeling proud of Merlin and grateful for his loyalty. Arthur had been ready to give up on everything, but Merlin had never gave up on him. Merlin had found a way out of an apparently lost cause and had helped him save his father and his Kingdom.

Of course Arthur was not ready to admit to any of that, let alone to Merlin's face, but then Merlin had tried to hug him in the middle of the corridor, as if they were equals, as if they were actual friends, and Arthur marveled at the boy's naivety once again.

Perhaps it was time for Merlin to man up a bit. If Arthur really cared so much about his manservant, maybe he should help him remember his place, teach him how tricky and selfish nobility could be so that he didn't get himself into trouble with Arthur's sort again. And why couldn't Arthur gain something out of it too?

“I've been considering you offer lately,” Arthur said that night, when Merlin was helping him prepare for bed.

“What?” Merlin asked, his eyes big and honest with a suggestion of smile on his lips. “Are you giving me a day off, at long last?”

Arthur snorted, turning his back on him to take off his jacket. “Not _that_ offer, you moron. The one you made the other day, about helping me out with my...” Arthur cleared his throat, “my carnal needs.”

Merlin froze in the middle of untying the Prince's waist belt. “Oh,” he said stupidly.

Arthur batted Merlin’s hands away, giving him a reproachful glare before removing his own belt.

Merlin began to fold Arthur's jacket, avoiding his look. “I didn't think there was something to consider. You seemed very final on your refusal.”

Arthur chose to ignore Merlin's words before he could change his mind. He sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his boots. “Well, I've given it some thought and I came to the conclusion it's no big of a deal and _maybe_ we can give it a try. That is,” he watched as Merlin kneeled in front of him to help him, noticing his cheeks reddening, “if the offer still stands.”

“It does, I guess.” Merlin sent him the briefest of glances, seeming too concentrated in his task. “Like you said, it's no big of a deal.”

“Good,” Arthur nodded. “Then we shall establish some rules.”

“Rules?” Merlin asked, standing up to put his master’s boots away. “What kind of rules.”

“First of all, and more importantly, no one can know of it. And by no one I mean not a single soul.”

“Of course!” Merlin sounded positively offended. “I'm not a gossiping maid if you haven't noticed yet.”

“Yes, but we both know you like to talk. More so when you have a drink.”

“I never said anything about what you confided in me, now did I?”

“I'm not saying you did. I'm just saying it can never happen.”

“Understood,” Merlin said, stopping in front of him and looking crossed. “Anything else?”

“You shall not get in my bed, under any circumstances.”

“I didn't–”

“Oh, just hear me out, will you?” Arthur snapped, getting up from the bed and walking to the window. He could not look Merlin in the eye while saying these things.

Which called for another rule.

“You're not to look me in the eye while at it. Or say anything, or touch me anywhere else. We're no lovers.”

Merlin let out a huff at his back, but did not say anything.

“You aren't to initiate it, but to wait for me to ask of you.” Arthur looked over his shoulder, finding Merlin staring at him with one arched eyebrow. “Are we clear?”

“Oh, we're absolutely clear, My Lord.” Merlin said that in the least subservient tone he could manage, which was quite something. “I'm at your service, as I always have been.”

Arthur didn't like his tone one bit, but he opted not to comment on it. He stepped out of the window and closer to the hearth, looking down at the flames. “Now, help me out of these clothes.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin hesitate before walking to him. He stopped by Arthur's side and proceeded to untie the laces of his tunic. Arthur held himself still while he did it, too aware of his proximity, of the heat of Merlin's hands while he pulled the cloth up his torso, always too careful not to touch skin. Arthur held his arms up for him to pull it off and then straightened his spine when Merlin turned his back on him to hang the tunic over the changing screen. Normally, Arthur would strip by himself, moving behind the screen to change into his night breeches, but he stayed put this time.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked when Merlin hesitated again.

With a grumble, Merlin stepped up close again and fumbled with the laces of Arthur’s breeches. This time, Arthur looked at his servant while he worked, watching as he kept his eyes downcast, his hands seeming more clumsy than ever. Arthur could hear Merlin's breathing become shallower as well as see his chest heaving. When Merlin finally managed to untie the laces, Arthur grabbed his hand before Merlin could pull his pants down.

Merlin gasped. He looked up briefly, but soon averted his eyes again. Arthur guided Merlin's open palm over the fabric of his breeches, where Merlin could feel the outline of his shaft beginning to harden. The sensation of the touch was thrilling and only caused his cock to fatten up to a nearly full master. Merlin didn't try to take his hand away, but did not move it either, simply allowing Arthur to press his hand up and down his length.

“Any second thoughts?” Arthur asked, his voice husky, attentive to Merlin's every expression.

Merlin swallowed and shook his head decisively. “No.”

Arthur breathed out, relieved. He let go of Merlin's hand then, but it stayed right where he had left it. “Take it out,” he said and Merlin did as he was told.

He pulled the waistband down slowly with one hand, freeing Arthur's erection, then grabbed it with the other hand, giving it an experimental tug. His palm was calloused, as it was only to be expected of a servant's hand, but not as much as Arthur's, since Merlin had not spent half of his life with a sword on his hands. It was so much better than Arthur's own hand.

“Yes,” Arthur gasped, closing his eyes, placing his hands on his own waist. “Keep going.”

Merlin shifted his foot so that he had a better grip on him and slid Arthur's foreskin up and down as he jerked his fist, too slowly.

“Faster,” Arthur said, getting a bit impatient. He was used to getting it done quick and efficiently so that he could get to sleep already, but Merlin was taking his sweet time.

Merlin’s fist gained speed as he went, but he soon slowed down again. Arthur's breath caught when Merlin thumbed the tip of his shaft and spread the moisture down his cock head, squeezing him more firmly as he moved and Arthur had to hold the mantelpiece with one hand not to lose his balance.

“I said _faster_ ,” Arthur said between gritted teeth, his knuckles white with the force he was gripping the cold stone in front of him.

Merlin sped up again, this time for good. Arthur kept his eyes tightly shut and tried to concentrate only on the feeling over his sensitive skin, but he could not help noticing Merlin's puffs of breath over his bare chest and picturing him standing there, by his side, looking down on him.

Arthur should feel embarrassed, he really should, but all he felt was a surge of pleasure overtaking him as he came, pulsing under Merlin's grip. Arthur opened his eyes then, watching the white strings of his seed spurting out all over Merlin's fingers and dripping onto the stone floor. He held Merlin's wrist still for a moment and bucked his hips a few times until he felt empty and oversensitive.

He let go of Merlin's hand then, his breathing shallow, his skin hot and sweaty from recent activities and the heat coming from the flames. He watched as Merlin pulled his breeches down his legs, crouching as he helped Arthur step out of them. He saw Merlin wiping his hand with the discarded cloth and steping away, never once looking up at him.

Arthur just stood there, half-leaning over the mantelpiece, completely naked and panting, his erection softening slowly and peacefully as he stared at the stain on the stone floor. He heard Merlin washing his hands on the water basin at his back, but did not move a muscle until Merlin came up with his sleeping breaches and helped him into them.

Arthur dragged himself to bed then, barely conscious of Merlin moving around his bedroom, cleaning the floor and gathering his laundry as Arthur drifted off.

.oOo.

Of course none of his reasoning made sense the next morning and he could not help but feel ashamed for taking advantage of Merlin like that. Granted, Merlin had come with the idea himself, but he was the most vulnerable out of the two of them. As his master, Arthur should have known better than to keep him to his word. Once he had accepted Merlin's offer, he knew Merlin would had never taken it back, even if he had indeed changed his mind. Merlin had never backed away from a task or a challenge Arthur had set to him. He would grumble and complain and call him names, sure, but he would do it nonetheless. Not quite efficiently, maybe, but he would persist until the end. That was just part of who he was.

Now, having quite unusually woken up before dawn, Arthur twisted and turned in the sheets, dreading the consequences of his actions. What if Merlin never looked him in the eye again? What if Merlin loathed him after the humiliation Arthur inflicted on him? What if things were never the same between them again?

When he heard footsteps outside his bedroom, he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He heard the door opening and closing, then footsteps crossing the room to the windows before everything when bright under Arthur's closed lids, making him scowl involuntarily.

“Time to wake up, My Lord,” came Merlin's voice, as inconveniently cheering as ever.

Arthur grumbled and brought one pillow over his head, half relieved and half annoyed. “Go away,” he said when Merlin pulled his sheets down, uncovering his torso.

“I'm afraid I can't go away until you're ready for the morning training, Sire,” Merlin said, moving about the room. “Unless you've changed your mind about giving me the day off, in which case I'll gladly go back to my own cozy bed and stop bothering you altogether.”

“I doubt there's anything cozy about that thing you call a bed, Merlin.” Arthur shifted the pillow just a few inches to peek at the room, watching the very moment Merlin tripped over one of Arthur's boots and land on his bottom.

“Ouch!” Merlin said and Arthur guffawed, earning a glare from his manservant as he got back on his feet, massaging his bottom. “It's not funny.”

Arthur tried to say it was hilarious, but he simply couldn't stop laughing long enough to say a word.

“Have I told you lately how much of an ass you are, My Lord?” Merlin said as he pulled Arthur's covers from on top of him. “'Cause I feel like I haven't said it enough.”

Arthur did not bother to reprimand him for his insubordination, moving out of bed instead, wiping the tears of mirth off his face as he went. “And I feel like I don't need to point out how much of a buffoon you are. You always make it so obvious to anyone with eyes.”

Merlin grumbled and tugged forcefully as he dressed Arthur with his day clothes and armor. They were sure to be fine, Arthur had nothing to worry about.

.Merlin.

It didn't happen very often. Most of the nights Arthur was too tired to wish for anything beyond a restful sleep and most of the mornings he was late for some appointment. Besides, Merlin was too innocent for Arthur to push that obligation on him more than absolutely necessary, so Arthur still took care of himself most of the time, but he could not stop picturing long fingers and a relatively smooth palm as he did. He would tell himself it was a faceless girl's hand he was imagining, but he had caught himself observing Merlin's hands too many times lately to fool himself. At least, he thought he was cured of his feelings for Guinevere, since she hardly crossed his mind anymore.

It still did not mean anything more than what it was, when Arthur grabbed Merlin's hands and brought them to his groin, always without uttering a word. He would sigh when skin found skin and close his eyes, focusing on the rough feeling of Merlin's hand and the heat of Merlin's breath next to his skin. He could picture anyone doing it. Or no one at all.

Arthur liked it better when Merlin wasn't right in front of him; particularly, when Merlin circled his waist from behind Arthur's back, careful not to touch any more skin than he ought to, though the proximity caused Merlin to breath hot air into to side of Arthur's sensitive neck. Arthur also learned to appreciate the slow pace Merlin insisted on going, making him ache for release until he could finally get it and prolonging it by doing so.

Surprisingly, Merlin kept Arthur's rules at heart. He never said a word about it and never looked Arthur in the eyes. Also, even though Arthur had not made it an explicit rule, he never asked for any kind of retribution either, or else Arthur would've had to remind him of his place – hence, of Arthur's rank. Arthur felt immensely grateful for that and was careful not to acknowledge the way Merlin's breath became slightly erratic while he was touching his master or the way his breeches tented when he was done. More than once, Arthur wondered what had really motivated his manservant's offer, but soon he chose not to pursue that line of thought. In the end, it did not matter if Merlin enjoyed it or not as long as he followed the rules and kept in mind the true nature of their agreement, which was purely physical.

As time went by, Arthur could never have anticipated that he would be facing Merlin's imprisonment order once again, this time for a much more serious accusation, but it was exactly what happened as soon as The Witchfinder arrived in Camelot. For once, it became apparent that it was not a result of Merlin's foolishness but simply a misfortune – as serious as it was – that he was mistaken for a sorcerer, of all things. Arthur had no way of preventing Merlin's restraining this time, for the boy had been present as the sentence was proffered by the King and it wasn't long before Merlin was locked in the dungeon.

Fortunately, Arthur did not have to think of a way of sneaking him from there, for after another short moment Gaius was ordered to take his place. Arthur felt bad for the physician, but mostly he felt relieved. Gaius was a good man and a loyal friend, it surely was unfortunate, yet Arthur had learned not to waste efforts on a lost battle. Maybe it was selfish and cold of him to think that it was for the best, but Arthur could not bear the alternative.

The following days were somber and unsettling for everyone, but mostly for Merlin. Arthur tried to give him some space, sparing him of some of his tasks, but it was hard not to feel touched by the boy's suffering. Arthur tried to keep him from getting into trouble when Gaius confessed his crimes and even allowed him to get in Gaius' cell, risking his own neck; however, he still could not see a way out of it. He knew Gaius was something of a father to Merlin and he wished he could do something more than show his condolences when the time came and offer Merlin a friendly shoulder to cry on, but he could not see how he would be of aid otherwise.

When everything was about to come to it's unavoidable end, Guinevere had presented him with a way to be of real use. Arthur was reluctant at first, but then he remembered the sadness on Merlin's eyes and stopped the execution. It was dangerous, he knew; not as much for him as for Merlin, if the boy's accusation proved to be false or simply could not be verified. Luckily, Aredian was caught in the act of practicing sorcery and Arthur found himself once again marveling at Merlin's perseverance when fighting for his friends. Arthur might have given up on Gaius, but Merlin never did and never was going to. Arthur discovered that Merlin did not need his condolences, in the end – he was no damsel in distress, after all – yet he deserved his admiration and praise.

Not that Arthur would give him any. Not with words, although Arthur was not sure if his actions showed his pride any better, for Merlin was still the one doing all the work with nothing in return.

.Merlin.

As the days passed, things fell into routine again until Arthur was challenged to a duel. This time by a woman! Arthur had no intention to fight with a woman, nor he intended to withdraw, but there seemed to be no honorable way out of it, so he paced his room and snapped at Merlin's doubts about his ability to come out of it victorious.

He took advantage of Merlin's worry and sent him to Morgause's room to give her a chance to call the challenge off, but when Merlin came back with bad news, Arthur resumed his pacing around his chambers while Merlin got back to tend for his armor.

“You shouldn't worry too much.”

Arthur looked up at Merlin with a frown, but the boy kept his head down, apparently focused on his polishing. “I'm not worried.”

“Sure,” Merlin scoffed.

Arthur chose to ignore him, stopping by the window, looking at the place Morgause had been practicing earlier. She had killed five guards, five of his trained men.

“Anything I can do to help you take your mind off of it?” Arthur heard Merlin offer and, this time, when he looked over his shoulder, he saw Merlin looking back at him from under his eyelashes. If Merlin was a girl, Arthur would say he was being flirtatious.

Merlin was surely no girl, yet Arthur knew exactly what he was offering.

“Should I remind you off my rules?” Arthur asked, indignant. He was not in the right state of mind for any of that.

Merlin looked down again, sighing. “Alright, I only meant to be of use.”

“You're being of enough use. I'll need my armor more than your smart tongue.”

“If you say so.”

Merlin got back to work in silence and Arthur was left to contemplate the empty Square again, only this time he wasn't thinking of Morgause anymore, but of Merlin's devilish look. Not for the first time, Arthur wondered what it would have been like if Merlin was a girl. Well, he certainly would not be his manservant and they probably would not have had this conversation to begin with, although Arthur would not feel so reluctant to give in to the prospect of finding carnal release while also distracting his mind about his concerns.

Then it came to him when Merlin was preparing his bed: Arthur was already efficiently distracted.

“Merlin,” Arthur called when Merlin fetched his sleeping breeches and landed them over the mattress.

“Sire?”

“Undress me,” Arthur said and Merlin searched for his eyes one last time, looking a bit uncertain. Arthur raised one eyebrow, as well as his arms. “Well?”

“Right.” Merlin helped him get out of his tunic, then folded it while Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for him to take off his boots. Arthur followed Merlin's every move with intent, palms flat on the mattress, leaning his body slightly back.

As soon as Merlin was done with his boots, he looked up to Arthur searchingly, still kneeling between Arthur's legs. Instead of making him move away, Arthur nodded once and flopped down to the bed, closing his eyes. He sighed when Merlin unlaced his breeches and pulled them down his thighs. He was flaccid, but felt a surge of arousal at the anticipation. He waited for the touch of Merlin's fingers, probably cold at first for handling the metal of his armor not long ago, but startled to feel a rush of warm air followed by heat humidity.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, raising his head to look down, then straightening up in a beat at seeing Merlin leaning down to lick him again. “What on Earth!”

His sudden movement forced Merlin to lean back, eyes round like a trapped deer. “I'm sorry, I was just–”

“You were just what?” Arthur felt anger rising up his neck together with embarrassment, as he pulled his breeches up to hide the contradicting swell of his cock. “I never allowed you to do... this!”

Merlin leaned further back, sitting on his heels. “I know, but–”

“For goodness sake, why can't you just do as you're told for a change? I thought we had it already sorted out! You know the rules!”

Merlin's nostrils flared and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, I'll stick with your stupid rules.” He got up, stomping to the other side of the room to put away his discarded garments.

Arthur blinked, incredulous. “What was that?”

“I'll do it your way!” Merlin raised his hands, visibly annoyed, even though Arthur could not see why. “I promise I won't try to make it any more pleasurable for you. I'll keep my smart tongue to myself. After all, you were very clear when you said you didn't need it.”

Arthur simply gaped at him for a while, unmoving. He was torn between astonishment, chagrin and arousal. No one had ever licked him _there_ before and the thought that Merlin could do it had never even crossed his mind! Surely, he had heard of what the courtesans down the village used to do, but he could not be seen in such a place and, having chosen to bed mostly untouched girls, Arthur had not experienced anything out of the ordinary before. He had never even dwelt upon the many possibilities, contenting with being the most experienced out of them, and now he felt offended to sound like an uninventive sort in bed; all the more when it was his innocent, ingenuous manservant making him sound like one.

Or was he ingenuous?

“How did you learn of this?” Arthur asked, suddenly suspicious.

Merlin shrugged, keeping his back to him.

“Merlin!” Arthur called, waiting for his manservant to look at him. “Answer my question.”

“I, erm–” Merlin cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “I heard the Knights talking about it, about how the courtesans do it, I mean. And I thought maybe you'd enjoy it.”

Arthur's eyes narrowed. “You haven't been with someone else, then?”

“No!” Merlin squirmed under Arthur's pointed stare, staring back at him with aggravation.

“Good.” Arthur straightened his spine with all the dignity he could muster. “I can't have you giving me some filthy diseases from the lower town, now can I?” he amended quickly to justify his outburst.

Merlin did not say a word, though he still looked quite hurt by his hasty conclusions.

Arthur sighed, then released the tight grip he had been keeping in his breeches now that his body had calmed down again. “Alright,” he said, leaning back once more and nodding towards his own groin. “Show me.”

Merlin's eyes widened at that. “Are– Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go on.”

This was fine, Arthur told himself when Merlin approached him. Arthur was in charge again, as he should be. He felt a renewed twitch of anticipation as Merlin kneeled by the bed, pulled his breeches back down and leaned forward to breath over him, hands behind his back to keep them from touching him elsewhere. Merlin looked up before his mouth touched him, face angular and eyes hooded by his long lashes.

“Don't look–” Arthur began to chastise, and Merlin was quick to look down with a muttered apology.

Arthur's breath caught when Merlin's tongue brushed his skin again, tasting him, experimenting, leaving a moist trail in its wake. Arthur watched intently as Merlin licked a longer stripe then, his chin touching Arthur's pubic hair lightly as he did. His cock started to fill again, more so when Merlin mouthed along his shaft, lips soft and hot breath tickling his skin.

“Good heavens,” Arthur breathed when Merlin took him into his mouth, sucking and licking and soon he was too big to fit inside.

He slid out noisily when Merlin raised his head to breath, careful not to look up. “Can I– Can I touch you?” he asked. “To... hold you in place?”

“Yes,” Arthur allowed, watching when Merlin moved one hand up to hold him, rolling his foreskin down and guiding the head back into his mouth.

Arthur grunted and laid back down, closing his eyes at the glorious sensation. It was proving to be a bit disorienting. He felt too vulnerable and not as much in charge as he thought he would be, but at the same time he did not feel any urge to complain when Merlin started bobbing his head. Merlin wasn't moving fast enough, though, and Arthur's hip bucked up at his own volition, making Merlin gag and pull back.

Arthur was about to protest when Merlin started moving his fist in a fast pace, the movement eased by saliva bringing his release so suddenly Arthur felt dizzy afterward. He threw an arm over his face, panting as Merlin stripped him of his dirty trousers and helped him into clean ones.

“I take it back,” Arthur mumbled then, allowing Merlin to move him as he pleased. “It appears your tongue's not as useless as I though.”

“Sure, sure, now go to sleep, Sire.”

When moving under the covers, Arthur felt his limbs heavy and his mind at peace. Whatever trouble had distressed him before, it could be dealt with come morning.

.oOo.

Arthur lost the challenge. To a woman. In front of the whole of Camelot. And Merlin wasn't exactly making a point of hiding his amusement as he undressed Arthur for his well deserved bath.

“It's actually quite funny when you think about it,” his manservant snickered while unclasping his hauberk. His smile died out when Arthur glared at him. “Or not.”

“No.” Arthur straightened up from his slumped position to point a gloved finger at Merlin. “It's like you said,” he reasoned. “I was hindered because I was fighting a woman. I was worried I was going to hurt her. That's why she won.”

Merlin nodded, bending over to unclasp his voiders, though he seemed little convinced. “You didn't look hindered,” he whispered, then looked up at Arthur's narrowed eyes. “I'll stop talking now.”

“Yes you will,” Arthur said, standing up and looking at him menacingly, determined to wipe that mirth out of his impertinent face. “You'll get me out of this armor for once and you'll help me bathe, but first...” he trailed off, stepping closer to speak to Merlin's face, observing when he took half a step back, his eyes opening wide. “I just remembered there's a lesson I promised to teach you when we first met.”

Merlin swallowed. “A lesson? Sire?”

“Indeed. I told you I'd teach you to walk on your knees, haven't I?”

“Oh.” Merlin's eyes became wider still as he took another step back to compensate Arthur's forth one.

“I realize now I've been failing to keep my word on it, but I'll be sure to amend my negligence tonight. Now,” Arthur looked down at his still very armored chest, “I believe you have work to do. You wouldn't want to let my bath run cold, would you?”

Merlin set to move at once, after a quick look over his shoulder to the steaming bathtub, probably remembering how many buckets of hot water he had had to carry up the stairs. He freed Arthur from his garments until only his trousers remained. He looked up at Arthur somewhat hesitantly then.

“On your knees now,” Arthur commanded. “And mind to keep your eyes down.”

Merlin obliged, kneeling down in front of him, then reaching for his laces. He was slightly out of breath, lips parted as he slid Arthur's trousers down his legs and pulled them from under Arthur’s feet as he lifted them, one at the time. He straightened up again after that, eyes leveled with Arthur's hardening cock.

“Come closer, Merlin,” Arthur said, teasingly. “Don't be coy.”

Merlin swallowed and looked up briefly before moving ahead on his knees until he was breathing right over Arthur's erection. Arthur was not used to talk like that during those kinds of activities, but there was something exciting in ordering Merlin around and watching him obey, for a change.

“Keep your hands back.” Arthur waited for him to comply. “Good. Now show me what your mouth's good for, besides making ill conceived, supposedly witty remarks.”

Merlin hesitated only fleetingly before leaning forward and enveloping the tip of Arthur's erection between his lips. Arthur grabbed the nearest chair to keep his balance when Merlin sucked, cheeks hollowing, eyes closing. Merlin moved further ahead, slowly engulfing more of Arthur's length as he went. He stopped to breath, keeping Arthur's flesh encased in blissful heat.

Arthur grunted and moved his hips in little, impatient jerks. He stopped when Merlin took the cue and began to bob his head back and forth, his tongue massaging the tender underside of Arthur’s cock in a maddening caress.

As he observed Merlin's flushed face, his uneven breath, his eyelashes fluttering, Arthur wondered again how Merlin felt about doing something as humiliating as that. He could not begin to fathom how Merlin could possibly enjoy it. He had seen the way Merlin used to act around Morgana, the way he looked at her with admiration and wistfulness. He had listened to Merlin professing his appreciation for Sophia's beautiful features. And, of course, he had seen how Merlin had spied on Catrina – though now he suspected the view must have been quite traumatic.

Arthur felt his release approaching and acted on pure instinct, grabbing the back of Merlin's head and keeping him in place as he pumped into Merlin's mouth at his own rhythm, earning a muffled protest. Closing his eyes, Arthur felt Merlin's hands on his thighs – to steady himself or push him away, Arthur would never know, since he was soon overwhelmed by the surge of pleasure as he buried himself as deep as he could in Merlin's throat and came.

Arthur heard Merlin choking and felt his fingers dig painfully in his flesh; He let go of Merlin's head with a hiss then. Merlin fell back, coughing and sputtering, while Arthur still pulsed the last of his seed on the floor, grabbing the chair again for support as he panted.

He looked down at Merlin and saw the boy's chin stained with white as he caught his breath, brow furrowed. He wondered if the grimace was out of distaste or anger. Suddenly Arthur feared Merlin's reaction and felt the need to be the first to speak.

“What? Have my men’s gossip failed to teach you this part?” Arthur asked harshly.

“Well,” Merlin said as he fought to get back on his feet, wiping his face with his sleeve, “I wouldn't mind some warning, next time.”

Arthur felt the tension leave his muscles as he breathed. “Next time? What makes you so sure there will be a next time?”

Merlin shrugged as he walked to the tub to test the temperature of the water. When he spoke, it was in his best sassy tone. “Oh, I'm a fast learner, but you know what they say, My Lord.” He looked up from under his eyelashes, his cheekbones still a bit colored and a suggestion of smile at the corners of his eyes. “Practice makes perfect.”

Arthur had to force the corners of his mouth down not to smirk. “That's what they say, indeed. Now, will you have to practice carrying more hot water up here too?”

“Oh, I've certainly mastered that already,” Merlin stood up and motioned for Arthur to step into the tub. “Sire.”

Arthur got into the tub and sighed, relaxing into the warm water. It was a little too much on the lukewarm side actually and it would probably be cold quite soon, but Arthur was too tired to care. He accepted the washcloth Merlin handed him and immersed it in the water before bringing it to his neck, washing the sweat from it.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Merlin walking around the room, collecting his garments and sorting them out. He took the opportunity when Merlin was absorbed by his tasks to look at the boy's groin, searching for the signs of arousal he thought he had seen there earlier, when Merlin was sprawled on the floor, face stained with Arthur's seed. Arthur could not tell for sure, but he suspected Merlin was still hard.

Arthur looked away when Merlin turned, an unsettling feeling at the pit of his stomach. It did not mean a thing, he tried to reason with himself. It could be that Merlin was so inexperienced in these matters that anything remotely erotic caused his body to react. It did not mean Merlin had any sodomite **¹** inclination, although he _had_ come with the suggestions of them having those kinds of encounters. Still, Merlin did not get anything from it.

Or did he?

“Sire?” Merlin's voice brought him back from his musings and he looked back to see Merlin kneeling behind him, hand stretched expectantly.

Arthur blinked once before coming back to reality. He handed the washcloth to Merlin and leaned over between his own bent legs to allow his manservant to scrub his back, taking the time to wash his own hair and face.

“Is there something troubling you, Sire?” Merlin asked, breath hot over Arthur's wet neck.

“What?” Arthur asked, wondering if he had given any indication of his previous line of thought.

“I saw you speaking with Morgause at the end of the fight,” Merlin said while scrubbing his lower back. “I couldn't hear what you said, but I gather it mustn't have been something reassuring.”

Relieved for the chance to direct his own thoughts away from the more recent happenings, Arthur told Merlin about his promise to Morgause. Merlin wasn't very thrilled either, but he did not reprimand Arthur on giving his word in that situation.

When Merlin brought him the bath sheet, standing up beside him, Arthur noticed he had somehow soaked his own breeches while washing Arthur's back and this time Arthur could see clearly that he was still aroused.

Merlin should have noticed him staring, for he shifted his foot and brought the sheet in front of himself, clearing his throat. “Are you finished yet?” he asked, his cheeks reddening.

Arthur stood on his feet and stepped out of the tub, turning his back on Merlin as the servant placed the sheet over his shoulders. “You may go now, Merlin,” he said without looking back as he dried his own hair.

“Sire?” Merlin sounded confused.

“I said you're dismissed for tonight. I can dress myself for bed.”

“But– But the tub–”

“You can take care of it by morning,” Arthur said a bit more sharply than he intended, looking over his shoulder.

Merlin averted his eyes, keeping his hands self-consciously in front of his groin.

“Is this about–” Merlin started to argue, looking down. “Just ignore it and it'll go away–”

“Merlin.” Arthur waited for him to shut his mouth. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

He turned his back on Merlin again and resumed drying his own body until he heard the door open and close behind him. He slumped, then, annoyed and relieved. Something in all that was starting to disturb him; or maybe it had been there all along, only Arthur hadn't realized it, too preoccupied on seeing to his most urgent needs. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should put an end to it before it was too late.

To everyone else, Merlin was his manservant, but Arthur could not tell for sure what Merlin meant to him. They had a connection that was much more than one of master and servant, something more like friendship, though Arthur's position and Merlin's devotion made it too unbalanced to be so. It was quite disorienting and it was hard to draw a line when Merlin was concerned, but sometimes Arthur felt like he was overstepping it, somehow.

The sole reason for their arrangement had been to make Arthur forget Guinevere and it was working just fine in that matter, but at what cost to his connection with Merlin? What if Merlin expected more of it than he had let on? Arthur could never give it to him. Arthur was not like that and he had made it pretty clear at the very beginning. Surely Merlin ought to have understood it.

That night, while lying awake in his bed, Arthur wondered if Merlin had touched himself after he left Arthur's room. He wondered if Merlin always did that after leaving Arthur's chambers and what he thought while doing it. The very thought of it caused Arthur to roll around, punching his pillow and trying to settle down, even though the discomfort came from the inside. Should he feel disgusted by it? Should he be disgusted at Merlin for being...

What? A sodomite? A pervert? Who was to say he was any of that? Who was to say he wasn't just curious and too loyal to his own good?

Perhaps Arthur was seeing too much to it. He probably should not trouble himself with that, since he had more pressing matters to worry about, like Morgause's vague challenge. He blew the candle by his bedside and willed himself to sleep.

.oOo.

It turned out Arthur had quite a handful to worry about, after all. Morgause mentioned knowing his mother and suddenly that was all Arthur could think about. Somehow he found himself relying on Merlin to escape, after his father locked him in his chambers, and opening up to him about his mother, finding that Merlin had more in common with him than he imagined.

He also nearly killed his father because of a lie and once again Merlin saved him from doing something he would regret for his entire life.

It made Arthur reflect upon all he had done recently and rethink a few decisions.

.Merlin.

Arthur was determined not to ask for that kind of service of Merlin anymore. For weeks, Arthur kept to his resolve. Many times, he had the impression Merlin was about to comment on the matter, but he must have remembered their rules in time, refraining his tongue before he could say anything. Arthur was relieved, but also intrigued. He wondered if Merlin missed their libertine activities or if it was simply a matter of pride, since Arthur had mocked him the last time.

Either way, Arthur thought better not to mention it, fearing the possibility of Merlin somehow convince him to go back on his decision.

Suddenly, there was a missing druid girl inside Camelot’s walls, an angry bounty-hunter demanding her to be found in order for him to collect his reward, strange deaths happening in the citadel and Merlin...

Merlin was acting strangely, suggesting that Arthur was getting fat – which was ridiculously absurd –, too distracted to do his work properly – not that he was that much better on a regular day – and walking around with dresses.

“As long as you do a decent day's work, Merlin, that's all I care about,” Arthur could not help but tease him, amused by Merlin's quick reaction.

“No, no. It's not for me.”

“What a man does in his spare time is completely up to him,” Arthur insisted, smirking.

Merlin looked a bit panicked. “No, you– you've got this wrong.”

“Color suits you, Merlin!” Arthur said as he left a gaping Merlin behind.

Later that night, though, Arthur wondered about the possibility of that being true. What if Merlin was really that kind of person? What if his explorations with Arthur had stirred the surface of something deeper and far more questionable?

Well, it really was none of Arthur's business. Merlin was free to do as he wished, even to be with whomever he wanted to, more so now that Arthur had made it clear that Merlin had no obligation towards him anymore, and yet...

Yet, it was unsettling and very _dangerous_. What if his... tendencies reached the King's ears? Arthur did not like the perspective of Merlin engaging in such reprehensible activities himself. The very thought of someone taking advantage of Merlin's naivety made him mad with anger, but he would never punish Merlin for it, although perhaps he would feel guilty for his own part on it. Uther, on the other hand, would surely act more severely and the consequences might be disastrous! Maybe Arthur should talk to Merlin, make him see reason. Maybe Arthur should advise him not to pursue that condemned way of life. Maybe he should have done that already, but was too blind by his own needs to do the sensible thing. Arthur set his mind on talking to him sooner rather than latter.

However, things did not go to plan. The warning bells sounded before Arthur could go to bed and he had to engage in a pursuit of the druid girl, who also happened to be the killer beast.

After that, Arthur could not find the right time to talk to his manservant. Merlin was distant and dejected and Arthur could not think of a plausible reason for that. He searched the happenings of the last few days, wondering what he might have done to cause that gloomy reaction. He wondered if it was about the fact that Arthur had kept his distance, but surely Merlin should feel relieved by that, shouldn't he? Maybe it was the bucket of cold water he had thrown over Merlin's head, then. There could be no other explanation.

“It wasn't very nice,” Merlin had said, confirming Arthur's suspicions.

“It was a bit unfair,” Arthur had to concede. “Like when you called me fat.”

“Why was that unfair?”

“Because I am not f–” Arthur cut his indignant reaction short at realizing the teasing behind Merlin's words, as well as the sassy smirk on his face.

Arthur grabbed Merlin in a headlock and rubbed his hair with his knuckles until he laughed harder, the smile now more open, if a little sad still. It lifted some of the weight from Arthur's chest and he begun to hope that everything would be alright between them soon enough, like it was meant to be.

.Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **¹** I’m not an expert in european history and I’m not sure if this word fits in here, but I couldn’t find any other option, so it’s staying.
> 
> Please keep in mind that english isn’t my first language and this is nonprofit fanwork.


	2. Two

**Chapter Two**

Keeping Merlin at distance soon proved to be counterproductive on behalf of Arthur's feelings for Guinevere. As the weeks passed by and the preparations for the makings of the peace treaty between the Five Kingdoms begun, Arthur found himself thinking of the serving girl with hope again. For the first time, he suspected his feelings might be reciprocated, if Guinevere's longing stares where to be considered, and suddenly his feelings rushed back to him like they had never left.

Once again, Merlin astounded him with his perception of the matter.

“And who might you be trying to impress, Sire?” Merlin asked when Arthur was dressing for the welcoming banquet.

“Well, let me see,” Arthur pretended to consider the question. “Perhaps the five Kings sitting in the banquet hall below.”

“Oh. Not the King's daughter, then?” Merlin said in his cheerful tone. “The Lady Vivian, she is very beautiful.”

Suddenly, Arthur had a flash of remembrance of Merlin's besotted looks upon Morgana and Catrina and felt compelled to warn Merlin about the foolishness of his possible actions.

“Anyone trying to impress the Lady Vivian does so at extreme peril. Olaf would have their head in a vat of hot oil before they'd have a chance to say hello. Besides, she's not my type. She may be beautiful, but she's incredibly rude. You should've heard what she said to Gwen.”

“Anyone insulting Gwen should do so at extreme peril,” he thought he heard Merlin mumbling.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Merlin dismissed it, only endorsing Arthur's suspicions. “I just know how you feel about her, that's all. That is, if your feelings haven't changed, as I presume they haven't.”

“I do have my own vat of hot oil, you know,” Arthur said in his best warning tone.

Merlin chuckled. “You're blushing!”

“No I'm not,” Arthur was quick to deny, though he was also quick to hide behind the screen in case Merlin wasn't just teasing.

“What's wrong with Gwen?”

“Nothing.”

“I think she's very worthy of your love.”

“Indeed,” Arthur said, and then complemented, “were it so.”

“Which… it is.”

“Merlin.”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Get out.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Arthur huffed in annoyance when Merlin left, although he was not sure if it was mostly due to Merlin's impertinence or the fact that he was more right than Arthur would like to admit.

The following days were a bit dreamlike for Arthur. Or nightmarish, to be more precise. It looked like he was watching himself from a distance, as if it was all happening to someone else, not to him. His heart seemed swollen from a feeling that was not his own and his thoughts fogged by it as if he was drugged.

He only came back to his senses with Guinevere's lips on his own and he would have drowned in that sweet kiss if it wasn't for his broken rib and his imminent fight to death against none other than King Olaf, Vivian's father.

When Merlin explained about the enchantment he had been under, later, it was easy to believe his words. When he told Arthur about Guinevere being his true love, it made sense. So much so that Arthur made sure to let Guinevere know.

Only, Guinevere did not think his love was enough.

.Merlin.

“I don't know what's stopping you now,” Merlin said while collecting the remains of Arthur's dinner and setting them aside.

“What on Earth are you talking about now, Merlin?” Arthur asked, stepping out of his boots. He was exhausted and his ribs ached every time he breathed too hard.

“You both know how you feel about each other,” Merlin went on and Arthur rolled his eyes, sighing.

“Merlin,” he said warningly, but Merlin did not seem to pay him any mind.

“She's perfect for you and– Wow!” Merlin raised his hands in surrender when Arthur grabbed the knife he had used to cut his meat from the empty plate and pointed it at his throat.

“I said I'd kill you if you mentioned it again.”

“No, you said you'd kill me if I mentioned what happened in the tent, which–”

“Which you just did.” Arthur pressed the knife further ahead, forcing Merlin to take a step back.

Merlin sighed. “Fair enough.” He lowered his hands and stepped into the knife until it nearly touched his collarbone. “Why, Arthur? I thought you had opened your heart to her.”

“I did and it's not my decision to leave it at that!” Arthur snapped, throwing the knife back on the plate with a clatter and sitting on the edge of the bed, planting his face on his open palms. “It's hers. I confessed my feelings for her and she said she cannot be my queen, so she won't be anything of mine.”

“Oh...”

Fortunately, Merlin did not press him after that, going back to finish his chores. Arthur heard him walking around the room.

“Anything else I can do for you, Sire?” Merlin asked some time later and Arthur finally looked up to him.

Merlin was standing by the table, ready to take the dirty plates and bring them down to the Kitchens. Arthur intended to send him away, but the words would not come, so he just stared. Merlin must have seen something in his eyes, for his shoulders sagged and his eyebrows arched in sympathy.

“Oh, Arthur...” Merlin said and walked to him.

Arthur watched him come closer and stop one step away, eyes searching. It was Arthur's last chance to stop him, he knew, but still he said nothing. When Merlin took that last step, Arthur spread his knees further apart to accommodate him and leaned slightly back, palms flat on the mattress.

Merlin got to his knees slowly like he was trying not to scare him and they held each other's eyes for a moment before Merlin reached for his laces, casting his eyes down. Arthur was not aroused in the slightest when Merlin pulled his breeches down, exposing him, but Merlin didn't hesitate before bending down and taking him into his mouth.

Arthur's breath caught as his blood flood faster, filling him quickly under Merlin's cares. His ribs ached, but Arthur welcomed the pain as well as the pleasure coiling in his guts, growing steadily. Merlin's hair and nose tickled his belly but Arthur did not back away, looking down at the black messy locks, remembering the feel of it when Arthur had grabbed Merlin's head the last time. He wanted to do it again, keep him in place and push his own hips up to dictate the pace, but he grabbed the bed covers tighter to stop himself.

“Merlin,” Arthur called when his balls tightened and Merlin pulled his mouth back until only the tip of Arthur's shaft was in his mouth and wrapped his fingers around his length to jerk him to completion. Merlin startled at the first surge of seed, but didn't back off until Arthur was finished.

Merlin let go of him then and wiped his chin where some of the white liquid escaped his mouth as he straightened up, looking up at Arthur fleetingly before working on Arthur's laces again. Arthur watched his parted, swollen lips intently. He wondered if Merlin's lips would feel as soft as Guinevere's if Arthur were to kiss him. The realization than Merlin had swallowed his release left him both disgusted and marveled.

Arthur should feel angry at Merlin for taking the initiative, for breaking his rules again, but he felt guilty for his own weakness, angry at his own lack of willpower.

He batted Merlin's hands away. “You may go.”

Merlin pressed his lips together, but nodded briefly before turning around. He took the dirty dishes as he left, looking back one last time before closing the door.

Arthur flopped down on the bed, covering his own face out of shame and regret.

.oOo.

The next morning, Merlin was checking Arthur's clothes for holes while the prince had breakfast, lost in his own thoughts.

“Arthur?” Merlin's voice brought him back to present, his posture a bit too stiff to be comfortable.

“Hm?” Arthur asked warily.

“There's something you need to know. Not that I think it would make any difference, but since you've asked me this before...”

“What is it, Merlin?” Arthur pressed impatiently. “Say it already.”

“I've been with a girl.”

It took some time for the words to sink in.

“You've been–” Arthur stopped. He blinked, his thoughts seeming suddenly too slow. “You mean as in you _bedded_... a girl?”

“It happened only once.” Merlin sounded defensive. He kept his eyes down, apparently focused on his task. “It was... about a month ago.”

Arthur cleared his throat, letting go of the cheese he was about to eat and supporting his elbows on the table. He searched his manservant's face looking for a sign of disguised amusement, but Merlin did not seem to be joking.

“Was it a courtesan?” Arthur asked, trying to come to terms with that news. “A maid?”

“No. It was a...” Merlin hesitated, before moving to the next tunic of the wardrobe, “a village girl.”

Arthur frowned further. “Are you seeing her?”

“No. She's... gone.”

“From Camelot?”

Another hesitation. “Yes.”

“I see.” Arthur averted his eyes. “Well... Thank you for telling me.”

Merlin looked at him and nodded before turning his back on his master again.

Arthur pulled his dagger from his belt and toyed with it for a while, thinking. A month ago, Merlin had said. Arthur remembered how upset Merlin had been a few weeks ago and suddenly it all made sense. Of course, Merlin had been broken-hearted! Arthur felt foolish for believing it had had something to do with him, at the time. It was often easy to forget that Merlin had a life outside of his service for the Prince.

Also, it should put his mind at ease about Merlin's motivations. Arthur should be relieved. Surely Merlin was no sodomite, he was just a boy. Or he used to be.

Arthur got up from the table and walked towards Merlin, watching him tense as if he was expecting to be cuffed in the head.

“Congratulations,” Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing a smile on his face. “You're a man now, Merlin!”

Merlin looked back at him with a shy smile. “Thanks, I guess.” He flinched when Arthur pinched his shoulder a little too hard. “Ouch!”

“This calls for a celebration!” Arthur said, surprising Merlin – and himself. “Tonight, you shall drink wine with me. Not that horrible ale you share in the Kitchens.”

Merlin shrugged. “Alright.”

Arthur shook him one last time before letting go. “Now fetch our horses and pack some food. We're going on a hunt today.”

Merlin's smile died out and somehow Arthur felt better at that.

.Merlin.

The attack of the Great Dragon reminded Arthur once more of the abyss between him and his manservant when Merlin became pensive and somber again. Arthur tried to make Merlin open up to him as something like a friend, but the boy seemed unreachable.

When Arthur saw Merlin weeping over the dead Dragonlord, Arthur was too frustrated to say anything, but he had the whole ride back to Camelot to think about it. If Merlin suffered like that for a man he had just met, Arthur feared for his reaction if something was to happen to himself.

As Arthur prepared to face certain death – again – he tried to advise Merlin on it. It was probably a strange thing to be more preoccupied for the life of his mourning servant than for his own doom, yet Arthur had no time to examine his own feelings. He had a dragon to slay, and he would do just that or die trying. So he asked Merlin not to cry for him, even though he could see the tears welling in his eyes already.

Only, instead of seeing to Arthur's weapon, Merlin had grabbed his own and insisted that he would go face the Dragon with him.

“I'm not going to sit here and watch,” Merlin said like it was unfathomable and Arthur turned to look at him more closely, trying to solve the puzzle that was his manservant. Then Merlin's face softened before Arthur's loss of words. He looked Arthur in the eye. “I know it's hard for you to understand how I feel, but...” he stopped himself then as Arthur frowned, all the more confused. “Well, I care a hell of a lot about that armour, I'm not going to let you mess it up.”

Arthur laughed at the unexpected joke. Deep down he knew there was more to that; he knew Merlin was just trying to lighten the mood, like he always did, yet Arthur was happy to let him walk away with it. They sobered up too quickly, though, the weight of their responsibilities heavy over their shoulders. Arthur held Merlin's eyes and nodded to himself before jabbing playfully at Merlin's chest in an attempt to show his appreciation for the gesture.

Against all odds, they marched back to Camelot side by side before dawn, triumphant. Almost as unexpectedly, Arthur was welcomed by Guinevere's relieved embrace.

Surviving meant that Arthur had all the time in the world to examine what Merlin said about his 'feelings' the previous night, so Arthur decided to cast that in a forgotten corner of his mind for another moment, when he wasn't basking in the glory of yet another great victory to add to his many conquests. Soon, people far away would talk about the Prince who had single-handedly slain a dragon. His enemies would pause before planning any attacks, turning their eyes on easiest prays, and quiver when facing him in upcoming battles. Arthur was admired by his people, respected by his enemies, loved by his father and King and he had survived to benefit from all that; what else could he wish for?

Surely, life was not a bed of roses. Morgana was still missing and Arthur did not have the girl of his dreams by his side yet, but there was plenty of time to win her.

Until then, he had Merlin; his petulant, clumsy, loyal, brave and faithful Merlin.

.Merlin.

Arthur had come to terms with what he and Merlin had, mostly, even though there wasn't a clear purpose to it anymore. He was not trying to forget Guinevere anymore; in fact he was nurturing his feelings for her in the hope of being able to act on them some day. Still, he did not see a reason for not taking advantage of Merlin's eagerness to please him in the meantime.

As promised, Merlin had learned a great deal about what worked and what did not work when it came to pleasuring his master as the seasons changed. He looked so smug about it sometimes, Arthur often felt tempted to humiliate him. He didn't always obey to Arthur's rules; he often alluded to what they did in close quarters as an apparently innocent remark that would have fooled anyone but Arthur; he frequently took the initiative, or even dared to look him straight in the eyes while servicing him. At times, Arthur would pretend not to notice his defiance and let him walk away from it; others, he would punish Merlin with some nasty task and take satisfaction in the way it effectively wiped that provocative spark off his face.

They grew close in other aspects too. Arthur liked teasing Merlin for being frightened of battle, but he knew the truth to be the very opposite. When it became clear Merlin would follow him to face whatever threat he had to counter, he made sure of teaching Merlin how to fight, even if it were only to defend himself properly. With the excuse of keeping himself in shape, Arthur brought Merlin to the training field and slipped in some instructions here and there, teaching him how to better grip the sword or detain certain moves. Merlin loathed every second of it and did not make a point of hiding how he felt. Morgana had told Arthur, years ago, that Merlin was a lover, not a fighter; Arthur knew now that Merlin could not fight for his own life and he would probably never be a skilled swordsman, yet he would do everything he could to defend others, so the Prince used that to motivate Merlin, urging him to toughen up and be prepared, should anyone needed his aid in the battlefield.

Merlin was always there for Arthur, surprising him with words of wisdom and selfless advices whether Arthur wanted to hear them or not. It was Merlin who stopped Arthur from marrying Elena, telling him he had a choice, despite having a heavy burden as his heritage and that he should marry for love. Before any imminent battle, Merlin would say words of belief and destiny.

Sometimes, Arthur would look at Merlin and find him staring back at him with something so intense and unsettling in his eyes, Arthur had trouble figuring it out for what it truly meant, so he was content to ignore it. Like when rumors of Uther going insane were attracting the wrong kind of attention and Arthur learned that Cenred was coming at them with an army. Arthur had his mind full with the preparations for siege, but then Merlin said he shouldn’t be so worried.

“Look what we've got,” Merlin had said and Arthur stopped to look ar him, intrigued about what could possibly be putting Merlin’s mind at rest in a moment such as that.

“What?” he asked.

“You and…” Merlin looked away for a moment before fixing him with his big and honest eyes, “me.”

“Merlin, what exactly are you going to do?” He couldn’t possibly be referring to what they had at closed quarters, could he?

Merlin hadn’t even flinched before answering with the unnerving conviction he had sometimes, as if Arthur was stupid not to have guesses it already. “I'm going to be at your side, like I always am, protecting you.”

As if!

Arthur had looked away, praying for patience. “God help me.”

Whenever something like that happened, Arthur would always avert his eyes and pester Merlin for any foolish reason, his mind resting only when Merlin looked at him with something close to anger.

Meanwhile, they had found Morgana. Almost a year had passed since she had been kidnapped and Arthur saw Merlin's happiness after talking to her and making sure she was alright, but the boy did not seem so besotted anymore. Naturally, when Morgana nearly died after falling from the stairs, Merlin suffered as much as everyone else, as much as Arthur himself. Merlin would have suffered if it were to happen to any of them, though; it didn't mean he was still in love with Morgana.

It was hard to prevent the unsettling feeling every time he caught Merlin talking to other men, though. Especially when Gwaine showed up.

Gwaine was infuriating in himself, irresponsible and daring and completely brilliant with a sword. Arthur admired his skill and reprimanded his way of life, but the truth was he envied his freedom, the way he cared for nothing else than drinking, gambling and fighting. The way he had blatantly flirted with Guinevere did not speak to his favor either.

On top of all this, Arthur had noticed how close Merlin had grown to the man from the beginning. Later on, Gwaine had nearly ended up executed after defending Merlin of Arthur's noble guests – which turned out to not be his guests after all, let alone noble. Of course magic had been involved as the two men posing as nobleman showed to be some brutes seeking revenge. Gwaine had been the one to save Arthur’s life, making it hard to keep a grudge at the man. Arthur was willing to Knight him for his bravery alone, telling himself it had nothing to do with the expectant look on Merlin’s face when he asked his father to permit it. Only his request was denied and Merlin had watched Gwaine leave with crestfallen eyes.

Not too long after that, when Arthur left Camelot on his quest to the Perilous Lands, Merlin had run to seek Gwaine’s aid, of all people. If Arthur came at Merlin too hard on training the next few days, well, he wasn't to blame.

Deep down, he knew it was not fair to hold Merlin to his word like that; keep him from finding his own other half like Arthur might have found in Guinevere, even if he disapproved of his manservant's inclinations. Perhaps it was time to set him free.

Yet, Arthur was selfish when it came to Merlin. He could not find it in himself to let him go, even if he was falling for Guinevere more and more as the time passed by.

Merlin, on the other hand, continued to prove himself to be the most altruistic man Arthur had ever known. He had been nothing short of supportive of his Prince’s forbidden love. He would always encourage Arthur to talk to Guinevere and disappear discreetly – or as discreet as he could be, which was not much – whenever they came to meet alone.

When Morgana, of all people, suggested Arthur spent some time with Guinevere, Arthur had gladly taken the chance, feeling more hopeful than ever.

“I'm thinking about spending the day with Guinevere tomorrow,” Arthur had said that very morning, when Merlin was tending to his weapons. He watched Merlin's reaction from the corner of his eye while pretending to search his sword for imperfections.

“Oh?” Merlin looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes.” Arthur grabbed the sword with both hands and moved it about, testing it's balance. “I'm planning on taking her near the lake, just outside the city, so that no one can disturb us.” He rotated the blade a couple of times before pointing it to Merlin, forcing him to move his body backwards. “What do you think?”

Merlin smiled, averting his eyes fleetingly before looking at him again. “I think it's a great idea, really! Don't know what took you so long to do this!”

Arthur held his stare a bit longer, searching his features for some hesitation, but found none. “Good,” he said as he lowered the sword. “Because you'll be the one telling her. And packing our provisions.”

Merlin's shoulders sagged then as he rolled his eyes. “Yes, Sire.”

As Arthur spent the next day with Guinevere, he could not think of why he hadn't done it before either. Guinevere was beautiful and loving in her rosy dress, with delicate flowers on her hair. Arthur felt good and light-headed in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He even confided in her his wishes to become a farmer.

Guinevere laughed at that. “I can hardly see you toiling away in the fields all day,” she teased.

Arthur shrugged. “Obviously I'd take Merlin with me; he can do all the hard work.”

“I'm sure he'd love that.” Guinevere had said with a fond smile.

Later, as Arthur lay down beside her and reveled in her soft kisses, he found that he longed for that kind intimacy far more than he would like to admit. It was such a simple gesture, innocent and pure, for their bodies were not touching apart from their lips; yet it was passionate like nothing he had ever done and left him tingling with anticipation. It wasn't satisfying as it was inciting. He could never get enough of kissing her.

Above everything, it was something he could never have with Merlin.

He wondered what Guinevere would think if she knew about him and Merlin. Would she still want to spend time with him? Would she find it disgusting? Would she reject him? For a moment, Arthur felt ashamed again. He would have to put a stop to that sooner rather than later.

However committed he was to that thought at the moment, it was entirely swept out of his mind when his father caught them. Uther's reaction was shocking at first, since he found it amusing that Arthur had succumbed to the charms of a serving girl; but then, as Arthur opened up his heart, the King was relentless. He banished Guinevere from Camelot.

Arthur knew better than to fight with his father when he had his mind set on something, so he made up his own mind. It was not that difficult, after all. He had just told Guinevere what he dreamed about; perhaps it was time to put that plan into action. He would run away with Guinevere.

“You're leaving Camelot?” Morgana had sounded surprised when Arthur told her. “You'd give up your rights to the throne!”

Arthur cared about his people, but he loved Guinevere and now that he had said it to his father, he could not deny it any longer. His place was with her. He would be a better person and a better Prince beside her, he knew of that with a certainty he could not put into words.

“One day we will return to Camelot together, and Guinevere will take her place on the throne beside me,” he had said to Morgana.

Arthur was determined to start to make arrangements immediately, only he could not seem to find his manservant. He knew Merlin was probably looking out for Guinevere, since Arthur was being watched, but Arthur needed to tell him his plan. Merlin would have to start to pack for both of them and be as discreet as he could manage, which was sure to be a problem. When Merlin finally showed up in his chambers, his father's guards were searching his room for some reason Arthur couldn't fathom. Had the King learned of his plan to elope? Arthur had not even told Merlin about it yet, they wouldn't find any proof of that!

The guards found a poultice, instead. And Arthur's world fell apart. He knew things were bound to get nasty the moment the word “magic” had been mentioned, yet he could not accept it was happening.

“That's ridiculous!” Arthur had tried to reason with his father.

“What would you know?” asked Uther, his eyes hard and cold.

“Because I know how I feel. I'm not enchanted.”

Arthur had been enchanted before, he knew how it felt and he could tell for sure his feelings were his own!

It was not enough to convince his father, anyway. When the King sentenced Guinevere to death, Arthur was terrified. Then he was angry. When Arthur charged to his father, he was not sure about what he would do, but he was capable of anything if only he had had the chance to get to him before the guards restrained him. He fought with all his strength and was able to escape them just enough to kiss Guinevere and promise her his love was forever before she was taken away.

Arthur was devastated after that. He was confined to his chambers and he pleaded with Merlin, for he was the only one there to listen. Except Merlin could not do any more than Arthur could, or he knew Merlin would have done it already; he was desperate as well, Arthur could see it in his face.

Merlin disappeared after that. Instead of him, Arthur found an old man in his chambers, who claimed to be a sorcerer and confessed he was responsible for the poultice. Luckily, Guinevere was released. Arthur was too relieved to dwell upon the fact that there was something unsettling about the old man, something about his eyes which looked strangely familiar.

Arthur searched for Merlin everywhere. He wanted to tell him firsthand that Guinevere had been released. He wanted to thank Merlin for his support and apologize for lashing out at him at some point, blaming him for the fact that the King had found out about his encounter with Guinevere. He knew Merlin was incapable of doing harm to any of them. Again, Arthur couldn't find Merlin anywhere, though, and when Gaius told him his apprentice was to spend the day in the tavern, Arthur forgot everything he had wanted to say, his gratitude replaced by annoyance.

Arthur made sure of expressing his displeasure when he found Merlin the next morning in a corridor, still looking quite drunk, having allowed the old sorcerer to escape right past him.

When Arthur finally met Guinevere later that day, they agreed that it would be safer if they stayed apart. He could tell Guinevere was touched by his willingness to give up the throne for her, but she reminded him that his duty was with Camelot first, proving that she would be a better queen than any other girl he could choose, whether they would be of noble birth or not.

“I promise you that when I am King, things will be different,” he vowed. “We can be together.”

“I will count the days until then,” she promised in return and they parted before getting caught by the guards.

That night, Arthur thought of Guinevere while touching himself. He pictured how he would make love to her sweet and tender after he made her his wife. When he was finished, he had a vision of Merlin with sad eyes, just like he had been after his village girl left, a couple of years ago.

He could not sleep after that.

.Merlin.

Arthur did not have all that trouble falling into his old routine again. It was good to keep his mind off things, training with Merlin or with his Knights, listening to his men's reports after patrols, having dinner with his father and Morgana and occasionally giving into his body's needs with Merlin.

When the appearance of the Cup of Life took him to a secret mission alone with Merlin, it was comfortable and familiar, despite the undeniable danger. When they run into Gwaine after being kidnapped by slave traders, it was nearly anticlimactic, though. Of course Arthur was grateful for Gwaine's aid and the swordsman surely was handy to be around, but he was also irritating and Merlin's obvious fondness of him was thoroughly infuriating.

Arthur didn't have time to spare with personal feeling though, since they were in an important mission. A mission which proved to be a bigger failure than they could have ever anticipated. The Cup was stolen; Camelot was under attack from an immortal army; the citadel had been taken and Morgana... Morgana was crowned Queen of Camelot.

Morgana's treason was even more heartbreaking than his father's lie about her parentage. Arthur was in shock for some time, he could not care to react, no matter how much Merlin pestered him about his responsibilities to his people. Until, suddenly, he snapped out of his self-pity and into action. He had to take Camelot back, he had to save his people.

Somehow, by the time Arthur came back to his senses, Merlin seemed to have taken charge of their little group – which now included Guinevere’s brother, Elyan, Gaius, Leon and, God bless her, Guinevere herself. In fact, Arthur would have felt betrayed if he did not know Merlin's true motivation and didn't already admire him for his tenacity. Merlin had even taken the initiative to call for Lancelot's help and their group grew larger with him and Percival.

Those men, they were not his subjects, they were not his Knights – apart from Leon; they were not bound to him by oaths and they were not his friends – in fact, they were more Merlin's friends than his own – but they were honest and brave and they were willing to give their lives for a good cause. Arthur found his courage again, his motivation to fight and realized he was stronger amongst them.

He made a few decisions his father would certainly disapprove of, but he had had enough of following his father's rules. It was about time he followed his heart. He knighted those men and reaffirmed his promise to Guinevere. Once again, he fought what seemed to be a lost battle and won! In the end, he felt victorious in more ways than he could count. Surely, his father was suffering and Morgana was lost to them, but for once Arthur did not feel responsible for it and he had his Knights, Guinevere and Merlin by his side.

He always had Merlin by him side; no matter how much his life changed, Merlin was always there for him.

For some time, Arthur was too busy with his own happiness to notice Merlin's sadness, but he felt his heart sink when he finally did. Once he opened his eyes to that, he could not believe it had taken him so long to realize it. Of course Merlin had been careful not to let it show, smiling whenever Arthur looked at him, bantering, giving him witty replies; yet Arthur knew him better than anyone, he was supposed to see right through this façade.

One night, after Arthur had dinner with Guinevere and escorted her back to her house, he entered his chambers to see Merlin standing in the middle of his bedroom, looking down on Arthur's bed, seeming lost in thoughts. Merlin startled when the door closed and spurt into action, pulling the corner of the sheets and fluffing the pillows before looking back at him with a smile which did not reach his eye.

“I didn't know what time you'd be back, so I was making sure it was all set for you to go to bed right away,” he said as if he needed to explain himself.

Arthur sighed and started to unbuckle his waist belt, but Merlin was right there before he could pull it out, eyes cast down, hands quick and sure.

Arthur looked down on him for a while, taking in his pale cheekbones and pursed lips. “Merlin,” he said grabbing Merlin's hand when he was about to step back to put the belt away.

Merlin froze, gasping. He looked up and back down quickly, his breath catching and Arthur let go of him in an instant, startled by his manservant's reaction.

Merlin stepped away and averted his eyes before turning his back on him, walking towards the wardrobe. “You were saying, Sire?” he asked when Arthur did not speak any more.

Arthur blinked to shake off the sudden and unexplainable pain in his chest. “Merlin, I– I didn't intend to–” He cut himself short, unwilling to say the words.

Had Merlin seriously though Arthur would ask him to touch him?

Merlin's uncertain look was answer enough and Arthur sighed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He felt resentful of Merlin's hasty conclusions and frightened at the same time. He had not feared losing Merlin for a while, therefore it was shocking to realize that could happen. He had conquered so many of his father's beliefs about ranks that he was starting to believe Merlin and he could be friends after all, but what if he had been wrong? What if they could be nothing more than master and servant and Arthur was to blame for this, in the end? What if his selfish actions had cost him his friendship with Merlin? What if he had to choose between Merlin and Guinevere?

Of course Arthur knew they would have to stop their secret encounters once he had committed himself to Guinevere; surely Merlin knew that too. He had been the one to encourage Arthur to take action on his feelings for her, after all.

Arthur did not think he could choose one of them without splitting his heart in two. He had grown used to Merlin's presence in his life; he had taken him for granted and the fact that Merlin never asked anything in return made him indolent. Yet how could he possibly go on without Merlin? Merlin was part of the reason Arthur had come this far. He was the one whose belief in him never faltered, even when Arthur's own did. He dressed of Merlin faith in him like an armor. Arthur needed Guinevere, but he needed Merlin too. He did not want to risk losing him as a friend.

“Merlin,” Arthur said at last and waited for his manservant to look at him. “Come here.”

Merlin hesitated, swallowing hard. He obeyed, nevertheless, stopping a couple of feet across from him.

Arthur motioned for the chair at the dining table. “Sit down.”

The boy complied after another brief hesitation.

“Merlin, I won't be asking for any of the favors you used to perform on me anymore. I don't think it'd be honest with Guinevere,” he added, feeling the urge to justify his decision.

Merlin looked down and it was hard to identify the feeling in his eyes, even though Arthur could take a guess. He nodded once. “Yes, Sire. I understand. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone.”

“I know you won't.” Arthur said, heart constricted at the way Merlin kept avoiding his eyes. Suddenly, he wished Merlin would shout at him. “Merlin, I–”

“It's alright, Arthur,” Merlin said, flashing him a brief smile, his eyes clear and honest, if a little too shiny. “You don't need to say anything. I know you don't like to talk about it. And it's not like you owe me a thing. You're both my friends and I'm glad for you. I want nothing but for you to be happy and I'm confident that she's as right for you as you're for her.”

Arthur nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He did not doubt Merlin's words for a moment. “Thank you, Merlin,” he said, hoping Merlin understood all that those simple words encompassed.

Merlin offered him another smile before standing up. “Anything else I can do for you, Sire?”

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment. “That'll be all, Merlin.”

Merlin curtsied and left.

Arthur looked at the closed door for a long time.

.Merlin.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a dubious consensual and a non consensual sexual relation between Arthur and Merlin at the end of this chapter. I put a warning on the scenes, so that you can choose to skip it if you don’t feel like reading it, but if you do choose to read it, do it at your own risk.

There were times when Arthur regretted his decision. Guinevere was lovely and sweet, but she was also very steadfast and she had made it clear from the very beginning that she would not give herself to Arthur if not in marriage. With Morgana's absence, she did not have a clear assignment anymore, but Arthur made sure she was welcome to stay in the castle. He even offered her a guest room, but she strongly refused.

“I have my own house and I quite like it that way. Besides, I earned my own livings for my entire life, I'm not going to stop now. What would everyone think of me if I were to live here?”

“They'd think you're special to me, as you certainly are,” Arthur tried to reason with her.

“They'd think I'm your mistress,” Guinevere said, final. “And I am no such thing.”

Arthur sighed and reached for her hand. “Guinevere... You know I can't marry you while my father lives. I wish I could give you any assurance, but you know I can't–”

“It's alright, Arthur,” she interrupted him, her features softening as she held back. “I understand. Your priorities are with your King and with Camelot, as it should be. I've never asked you to put me before any of them.”

“But what about us?” Arthur insisted. He was not above pleading, if he thought it would break her resolve, yet her smile was fond when she reached to caress his face.

“Our time will come. Try to be patient. Please.”

Arthur sighed again, defeated. He was not eager for his father to pass away, and God knew the man was strong, despite being in a catatonic state since Morgana's betrayal. Guinevere had kindly offered to personally take care of the King, even though Arthur would never have dreamed of asking her to do this for the man who had sentenced her own father do death. For all Arthur knew, Uther could live years like that and Arthur would be glad to have his father around, but it also meant he would have to wait to have Guinevere in his arms.

“Alright,” Arthur said, although reluctantly. “I'll try to be.”

“That's all I'm asking.” Guinevere smiled affectionately, showing her dimples, and leaned in to a chaste kiss.

Sir Elyan had cornered him at some point too, looking stern like never before.

“With all the due respect, Sire,” Elyan had said, albeit Arthur had insisted there was no need to address him so formally at all times. “I'm well aware that you're the Prince Regent and you can do as you see fit, but Gwen's my sister and I'm her only family, as she is mine. I also know that you can have any girls you wish and you can give them dresses and jewelry and even titles, but Gwen's not like that.”

Arthur was touched by Elyan's concern and also amused by the way he was trying to be the man of the house for his big sister. “Elyan, you can rest assured that I don't intend to–” he started to say, but the Knight stopped him.

“Please, allow me to finish, Sire,” Elyan asked, frowning.

Arthur sobered up, motioning for him to continue.

“I've come to know you well enough to believe you're a truly honorable man. I just want to remind you that, as much as you gave Gwen your word you'll marry her one day, you know as much of the future as I do. You risk your life every day; however many men you have who'd willingly give their lives for you, one day you might not be able to come back, in which case your word would mean nothing to her anymore, but at least she'll still have her virtue. So, please, don't take that away from her.”

Arthur had swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words. He nodded, then. “You have my word.”

Arthur never insisted on the matter again. He was nothing but respectful of Guinevere, careful to not be in a closed room with her too long or visit her house too late in the evening. He would kiss her tenderly and hug her longingly, whispering sweet promises to her ear and watch her smile and blush. Later, Arthur would go back to his chambers, his body throbbing with neglected desire, and find Merlin there, with his cheeky smiles, his cheery words and his quick hands working on some random task; he would feel even more frustrated at those times.

He had caught himself looking at Merlin's lips while his manservant talked more times than he was willing to admit, even if he did not always pay attention to what the boy was saying. When he was finally left alone to take care of his body's urges, he would fantasize with Merlin nearly as much as with Guinevere – if not more, since he already knew how his manservant's hands and mouth felt on him and could only guess how Guinevere would welcome him in her bed.

He wondered if Merlin missed their secret encounters as much as Arthur did. If the wistful way Merlin still looked at him was any indication, Arthur could bet he did. Yet, the Prince was trying to be a better man for everyone's sake; he had vowed to be more considerate of others’ feelings besides his own and he would keep his word to Merlin and Guinevere, both.

Obviously, that meant Arthur had no claim on Merlin but that of a master and he had to witness in silence while Merlin got closer to Lancelot, of all people, during the year that followed. Gwaine was a constant presence too, but he was often too busy flirting with girls to be of much threat. Arthur itched to ask Merlin about the nature of his relationship with his Knights, but thankfully he always restrained himself before he could say anything.

When Morgana released the Dorocha, Arthur never thought he would feel so frightened and hopeless in his whole life. He was used to feel confident whenever he picked up his sword, but his weapons showed to be useless against those creatures. The fact that Arthur could see his own fear reflected in Merlin's eyes and do nothing to reassure him had Arthur realize he would have to find another way of defending his people, whatever the costs. For this reason, he was resolute to give his own life in sacrifice to rid them of the spirits' threat and not even his father's sudden reaction was enough to change his mind.

Arthur remembered his promise to Elyan as he said his goodbye to Guinevere. He knew she would miss him, but at least she could go on with her life with her honor intact.

“Smile.” Arthur asked at seeing the concern on her face.

She shook her head. “I can't.”

Arthur touched her arms dearly. “Do you remember... the first time I kissed you?” She smiled then and Arthur was pleased. “There. That's the memory I will take with me.”

Arthur was sure she would find a good husband and get on with her life; she was a strong woman.

As for Merlin...

Arthur should not have allowed his manservant to go with them on their quest. He should have insisted that he stayed behind, to look after Guinevere. Merlin was no warrior and he was clearly terrified of the Dorocha, yet Arthur knew him to be brave and he could not resist having Merlin's company for the journey. At least Arthur would have enough time to say goodbye to him and he wouldn’t feel so alone while walking to his own death.

Before they could reach the Isle of the Blessed, when Merlin and him split from the group to collect firewood, Arthur had honestly believed there to be plenty of time to talk to his servant later, therefore he was appalled when a Dorocha plunged for Merlin. He dropped the torch as he tackled Merlin to the ground and pulled him towards the ruins they were taking shelter in.

To his complete astonishment, Merlin did not seem to be afraid as they crouched behind a wall. Merlin tended to Arthur's wounded arm, listening to the screaming spirits.

“Sometimes you puzzle me,” Arthur admitted, shivering both from cold and terror.

Merlin smirked and, when he spoke, his voice was husky and strange, but familiar at the same time. “You never fathomed me out?”

“No,” Arthur said honestly.

“I always thought if things had been different, we'd've been good friends.”

Arthur averted his eyes. “Yeah.”

“That's if you hadn't been such an arrogant, pompous, dollop head.”

Arthur chuckled, his heart bursting with gratefulness for Merlin's untimely sense of humor.

Merlin smiled too, but then he became serious again, looking at him with that unwavering conviction he wore sometimes. “We will defeat the Dorocha.” He said. “We will, Arthur. Together.”

Arthur nodded, even though he did not believe Merlin's words. “Well, I appreciate that. You know, you're a brave man, Merlin.” He waited for Merlin to acknowledge the compliment, then looked away. “Between battles,” he teased and was rewarded with Merlin's laugh.

Arthur watched Merlin's face and committed his features to his mind, willing to take his smile with him as well as Guinevere's. His eyes kept drifting away, though, given the intensity of his feelings. It was almost as frightening as facing the Dorocha.

“You don't know how many times I've saved your life,” Merlin said then.

“Ha!” Arthur rolled his eyes at that. “If I ever become King, I'm gonna have you made court jester.”

They both laughed at that. They heard more screaming then, this time getting closer, but Arthur was ready for the Dorocha now. He was ready to face anything. He was about to get on his feet when Merlin did the stupidest thing he had ever done. He pulled Arthur back and threw himself at the spirit.

“Merlin, no!” Arthur tried desperately to pull him back, but it was too late. Merlin was tossed back at the opposite wall like a rag doll.

The other Knights found them at that very moment and drove the spirit away. Arthur looked back at Merlin's sprawled form and walked to him, with Lancelot right at his feet. Arthur's heart was thundering deafeningly when he turned Merlin around and it nearly stopped to beat altogether at seeing his manservant's frozen face, his eyes still open wide.

“No!” Arthur said, his voice trembling. He ran his hands through Merlin's face desperately, brushing the ice and then slid them down Merlin’s arms, intending to shake him. “Merlin!”

Arthur saw Lancelot leaning over Merlin and tried to push him away, but someone grabbed his arms from behind. He heard Percival calling his name, but readily shook himself free from the arms that tried to pull him away.

“No!” Arthur cried out again, blocking Gwaine when the man tried to move closer and grabbing Merlin's clothes, intending to pull him into his arms.

“He's alive!” Arthur heard Lancelot shout then and gasped, moving closer when the Knight backed away.

“Merlin!” Arthur gripped Merlin's coat tighter and leaned closer, this time noticing Merlin's eyes following him as he puffed shallowly. “Oh, thank God!” Arthur leaned over Merlin's chest then, blinking to stop the tears from coming.

This time, Arthur did not resist when Percival pulled him away again. He stumbled backwards and averted his eyes when the others crouched beside Merlin. Outside, the sky was beginning to clear up.

“We need fire,” Arthur said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “We need to warm him up.”

He busied himself with the task, ignoring Leon and Elyan's concerned looks.

When dawn came upon them and both the fire and their blankets proved to be ineffective, Arthur began to pace again. Merlin's face continued deathly pale and he was having trouble breathing, his eyes looking haunted. Arthur was ready to give up on his quest altogether to bring Merlin back to Gaius and save him, probably condemning all of Camelot, but his Knights convinced him to continue while Lancelot took Merlin back.

Arthur agreed, although reluctantly so. He gathered all his courage and swallowed his pride as he neared Lancelot while he was preparing for the journey back. “Lancelot,” he asked, waiting until the man stopped gathering provisions for the journey to look back at him.

“Sire?” Lancelot said, his face stern with worry.

“Take care of him,” Arthur asked, trying not to sound so pleading or to show how much it pained him to ask that of anyone. He was supposed to take care of Merlin himself, not leave him to any of his Knights, regardless of how loyal they were to Merlin.

Lancelot nodded once, seeming to understand the extent of what Arthur was asking of him and how much it cost him to say it. “I’ll do my best, Sire.”

Arthur nodded back his appreciation and moved to get Merlin, but Percy was already at it, lifting Merlin up as if he weighted no more than a bag of corn.

“This is my fault and I'm sorry.” Arthur said remorseful as he tied Merlin to the saddle of his horse.

“Take me with you, please.” Merlin's voice was a mere hoarse whisper.

“You would die, Merlin.”

“But you don't understand,” the boy insisted stubbornly. “Please, Arthur.”

“Do you ever do as you're told?”

“I have to come with you.”

“Merlin–” Arthur was about to scold him when Lancelot urged them to leave. He squeezes Merlin's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “Go.” Arthur slapped Merlin's horse and watched them leave with tears welling in his eyes. He was aware that this was probably the last time he would be seeing Merlin, but he prayed to whatever Gods might be hearing to spare him.

.Merlin.

When Lancelot showed up alone in the abandoned fortress they were spending the night, a couple of days later, Arthur's heart sank. And then he let out a disbelieved laugh when Merlin appeared behind Lancelot, smiling, looking flustered and healthy once again as if he had never been ill.

Arthur had to struggle not to hug Merlin, fearing that he might never let go and thus embarrass himself in front of his Knights. He watched as the others welcomed Merlin back and even smiled when Gwaine hugged him, then held the boy's stare with open affection, for he couldn't care less for what the others might think of him at the moment; he was just glad Merlin was alive and back.

He squeezed Merlin’s shoulder awkwardly then. “Good to see you, Merlin.”

“Yeah.” Merlin nodded. “It's good to see you too.”

Arthur smiled and reached for Merlin, circling him around the nape and pulling him towards the others.

Later, when the others slept, Arthur and Merlin sat at opposed sides of a trunk as they ate by the fire. Arthur could almost feel Merlin's stare on him, but he kept his eyes cast down.

“It's going to be fine. Everything will be alright,” Merlin assured, probably sensing Arthur's distress.

“I'm just tired,” Arthur said dismissively.

Merlin was pensive for a moment. “You don't have to sacrifice yourself.”

Arthur looked at him sideways before staring back at the fire. “To save my people.”

“I will take your place.”

Arthur was surprised by Merlin's words at first, but then shook his head firmly. “Merlin–”

“What is the life of a servant compared to that of a Prince?”

Arthur chose to make light of his comment. “Well, a good servant's hard to come by.”

Merlin leaned closer, as if intending to tell him a secret. “I'm not that good.”

“True.”

Merlin held his stare for a while before looking away, swallowing hard. Arthur had a sudden awareness that his manservant's features were not as angular as before. Merlin had gained some muscles in the last few years and he looked more like a man than a boy now.

Arthur looked away too, frowning. All of a sudden, he remembered Guinevere and felt ashamed of forgetting about her until then. “One thing.” He asked, knowing that he could rely on Merlin for everything, even if some corner of his mind accused him of being cruel. “Look after Guinevere, I want her to be happy in her life. She deserves that.”

Merlin was silent for a moment and Arthur wondered if he had gone too far by throwing that burden over Merlin's shoulder, but then Merlin answered earnestly. “Don't worry. I'll make sure.”

For a moment, Arthur wondered if Merlin could learn to love Guinevere, given time. Perhaps they could make each other happy in his memory. They were the two people he most cared about that were not related to him by blood, after all. As comforting as the perspective was, it was also quite disturbing, so Arthur immediately banished it from his mind.

Arthur reached for his rucksack and rummaged through it, pulling out the pin with his mother's sigil **¹**. “This belonged to my mother. It bears her sigil,” he explained, examining it one last time before offering it to Merlin. “Here.”

Merlin looked between the pin and Arthur. “Arthur, I can't–”

“Just… Take it.”

Merlin reached for it hesitantly and rolled it in his fingers, looking marveled. He smiled briefly as he slipped it into his pocket. They kept a companionable silence after that and Arthur allowed his thoughts to be carried away.

.Merlin.

Arthur couldn’t remember exactly what happened at the Isle of the Blessed. He remembered seeing the torn veil between the words; he remembered being careful to walk ahead of Merlin, fearing that his manservant could do something foolish again, like take his place; he remembered talking to the keeper of the veil – her sad eyes would haunt his dreams for some time to come – but then something must have happened, for he woke up with Merlin crouching on top him, his eyes wet and red as he shook Arthur awake.

“What is it?” Arthur asked as he sat, reaching for his sword as he looked around. There was no torn veil anymore, only the sky full of stars above them and Gwaine moaning and grabbing his head beside him.

Merlin's face contorted and his eyes filled with tears again. “Lancelot,” he said, his voice quavering. He sobbed. “He entered the veil! He sacrificed himself in my–” another sob shook him, “in your place.”

“Lancelot!” Arthur stepped on his feet, looking around them, searching for his Knight.

“Where's Lancelot?” Gwaine joined him, hand on his sword.

Merlin made no effort to get on his feet, his shoulders shaking convulsively as he stood there, sitting on his heels, hands on his lap.

Arthur was too shocked to react so he simply watched while Gwaine kneeled beside Merlin, holding his shoulders. “Merlin! What happened?”

That was when the other Knights entered, sword in hand, ready to fight. Percival's arms were scratched, Elyan had a deep cut on his cheek and Arthur could not tell if the dark smear on Leon's neck was dried blood or dirt, but they were all alive. Only Lancelot was missing. His cape and sword were lying on the floor, so Arthur took them reverently.

Arthur had had his moments when he felt angry at Lancelot, but that was because of his own insecurities towards Guinevere – and Merlin, he had to admit. There was nothing reproachable in Lancelot's behavior and that was part of the reason he got on Arthur's nerves sometimes. The man had no flaws for him to hold onto, nothing to blame for Arthur's irritation apart from his own envy. It would have been so easy for Guinevere if she had chosen Lancelot instead of Arthur, the Knight could have made her happier than Arthur ever could.

Perhaps, Lancelot could have made Merlin happy too. They seemed to have had a strong connection, after all.

Arthur could not bear Merlin's grief for the man, so he allowed the others to comfort him and each other, since Lancelot was their friend too.

.oOo.

The trip back was long and sorrowful. Even Gwaine was quiet.

There was not a body to burn in ceremony, yet Arthur made sure to pay his tribute to Sir Lancelot at the Square. He was grieving himself, but not as much as Merlin and Guinevere; their suffering was heartbreaking to witness.

“He didn't sacrifice himself for Camelot,” Guinevere had said as she wept. “I asked him to look after you and he promised me with his life. He was true to his word.”

Arthur felt his heart constricted at that. Again, he thought Lancelot was a better man than he would ever be. He left her to mourn for the man alone, showing respect to her pain.

.Merlin.

On the day of Arthur's anniversary, when the Prince Regent was beginning to feel hopeful for his father's recover, Uther was mortally wounded. After more than a year watching him wasting away in his chambers, Arthur should be more prepared for that, but he found that he could not bear to lose his father just yet. He was prepared to reconsider the banishment of magic if it meant that he could save the King, and that made it all the more difficult to forgive himself when the old sorcerer he had bargained with killed his father, instead of saving him.

After that, Arthur was too consumed by grief and guilt to notice anything or anyone around him. Only when he left the Throne Room after a whole night of mourning for his father, he noticed Merlin sitting on the floor at the Antechamber, with dark circles under his red eyes.

“You've been here all night?” Arthur questioned when Merlin got on his feet.

“I didn't want you to feel that you were alone.”

Arthur felt touched by the heartfelt words. “You're a loyal friend, Merlin.”

It was the first time Arthur acknowledged Merlin for what he truly were, but not the last one. When Arthur made his vows and accepted his crown later, he was convinced he was prepared to face anything that was to come if only he had his friends and brothers in arms there with him.

.Merlin.

Being a King was proving to be more challenging than Arthur could ever had anticipated, but not in an exciting way. Far from having to fight great battles and defeat fearsome enemies, his worst challenge at those first months of his ruling were those he had to sit on his throne and make decisions - mostly trivial ones -, acting like he knew exactly what he was doing. For this reason, when his uncle Agravaine came to offer his help, Arthur was glad to welcome him into his council. Not that he did not trust his father’s former councilors, but he missed having someone of his own blood around and he always believed that family should stay together and stick for each other, therefore he felt more at ease by knowing he and his Kingdom were in good hands.

The amount of meetings and audiences Arthur had to attend was absurd and he had always found this part of ruling extremely tiring - not to mention terribly tedious -, only now he could not ditch it for practice, since the council would still be waiting for him after he came up from the training field. By the end of the day, he was always too worn-out to think of anything else and barely had the energy to yell at Merlin for being such a lousy servant. He was just happy that he could have some rest until it started all over again the next morning.

It wasn’t unusual for Arthur to dream that Merlin was watching him in his sleep, therefore it took him some time to realize he was not in one of those dreams, one morning, when he opened his eyes to find his manservant crouching by his bedside, staring at him.

Arthur blinked sleepily. “What on earth are you doing?”

Merlin hesitated for a moment before answering. “Looking for woodworm.” He knocked on the wood of his bedside furniture, leaning awkwardly in to listen to any noises.

Arthur was skeptical. “Before breakfast?”

“That is when the worms are most active.” Merlin reasoned.

Arthur stared at him. “Get out.”

That was not by far the strangest nor the most embarrassing thing that happened that day. When Arthur was attending a meeting at the Council Chambers to plan for the rearrangements of the Camelot troops protecting their frontiers, his breeches happened to slide down his thighs as if on their own volition. In front of his whole council.

It would have been disconcerting enough as it was, but then Merlin had to barge in and offer himself to help his master pull his pants back up. Arthur tried to stop him, pushing him away and shouting his name in a promise of later punishment, but to no avail. They fell on the floor in a tangle of limbs as they struggled for a better hold of Arthur's pants while their audience watched in stunned silence.

Arthur should put Merlin in the stocks for a week for causing him that much humiliation. How was anyone to take him seriously after that? He tried to act casually after Merlin finally left, but he could see the hidden amusement in the way his councilors looked at each other. Arthur called the meeting off with some feeble excuse when it became clear that he had lost that battle.

The secretive smile in his uncle’s face for the remaining of the morning was particularly hard to bear; it gave Arthur the unsettling impression Agravaine knew his better kept secrets, even though he had no possible way of knowing. Arthur hadn’t touched Merlin since his uncle’s arrival; how could he suspect something that wasn’t even happening anymore?

“I would like to have a word with you, Sire,” Agravaine said at some point.

As unlikely as it may have been for the man to know, Arthur was definitely not ready to have that conversation. “Can we talk later? There's some serious matter I have to discuss with Sir Leon.”

Agravaine curtsied then, flashing him his most condescending smile. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Arthur avoided his uncle for the rest of the day.

The next morning, the King was awoken by a bounce in his mattress. He was startled to see Merlin kneeling by his side, half-leaning over him, holding a goblet in his hand.

Arthur sat up quickly, frowning. “Merlin? What are you doing?”

Merlin had never being _in_ his bed before. Ever. Arthur felt suddenly self-conscious about his own naked chest before their proximity.

“Shh,” Merlin put a finger to his lips. He leaned over the headboard and used the goblet as an amplifier as he tapped it. “I’m listening for woodworm.”

“I’m getting slightly concerned about you,” Arthur confessed, unsure about his manservant's sanity.

Arthur should really have a serious conversation with Merlin. He was taking too many liberties, even if he never approached the subject of their past arrangement openly. Before Arthur could say anything, though, the warning bells rang and they had to hurry out.

.oOo.

It turned out someone had entered the castle's vaults and stolen the third part of a key to the Tomb of Ashkanar, which supposedly contained a dragon's egg. With no moment to spare before following the thief's trail, Arthur found himself relieved for postponing his conversation with both Merlin and his uncle. Out in the woods, dressed in his armor and cape, away from his advisers' reproachful stares and in the company of his Knights, Arthur felt like himself again. He had been feeling oppressed by his crown lately. Being a King felt a lot different from being the Prince Regent. Even though his duties had not changed that much, generally speaking, the way people looked at him had changed. They addressed him with more deference now and expected more of him.

Arthur enjoyed the camaraderie of his closest Knights and took pleasure in teasing Merlin, now helped by his men. They had all accepted Merlin as one of their own, even though their ranks were much higher than Merlin could ever be. They had taken care of Merlin after Lancelot's demise when Arthur could not and the King felt grateful for it, even if he found himself irritated by their consequent closeness.

It was almost like they were a bunch of friends messing around. Arthur enjoyed that trip and would have gladly kept going like that for days, but the Tomb of Ashkanar fell apart before they could retrieve the egg and they had to go back empty handed. Arthur had his Kingdom to rule and, sadly, that meant more dull work than fun.

.Merlin.

Arthur could not escape his uncle forever, as much as he would have liked to. Agravaine was his adviser and his only family left; Arthur valued the man's councils and knew them to be for the best. Yet, sometimes he felt like a child being admonished.

“The way you allow your servants to take liberties with you...” Agravaine shook his head. “I know you have him in high esteem, Sire, and he's certainly proven worthy of your appreciation, but you know how people talk. Sometimes you have to be respected, not loved. You have to remind him of his place. It might seem far too little to concern yourself now, but if you allow it to go on, next thing you know, he'll be criticizing your strategy to your face! Your father...”

Arthur listened to his uncle's reprimand with a frown. He knew the man meant well and there was some wisdom in what he was pointing out, yet Arthur felt reluctant to admit it, especially because he cherished Merlin's advices and they had proven to be invaluable on more than one occasion. Perhaps his judgment was marred by his confusing feelings for the boy, though.

Arthur wanted to be respected. His father had told him once how lonely it felt to be a ruler. He had told Arthur he had to choose between being his people's friend or their King. Arthur had insisted that he could be both; he was certain that he could manage it, but what if he could not? Arthur remembered the patronizing look on his councilors’ faces when Merlin had wrestled with his clothes in front of them and frowned.

“Thank you, uncle,” Arthur said when Agravaine finished his lecture and looked at him expectantly. “I'll consider your words.”

And so Arthur did. When they caught King Caerleon invading Camelot and Agravaine advised him on following his father's ruthlessness, he knew Merlin would disapprove of it before they spoke. Yet, what kind of King took the word of a servant over one of his councilors’?

“Arthur.” Merlin had said. “You've always shown mercy in battle. You've never sought to humiliate your enemy in this way. This isn't like you. This isn't who you are.”

Arthur refused to listen to him. As much as Merlin claimed to know him, he would never understand what it took to be a King.

“You have no idea what it is to make these decisions.” Arthur had told him. “Decisions that will shape the future of this land.” He ignored Merlin's attempt to reason with him. “So, please... stick to what you do know.”

He left after that, incapable of witnessing the hurt on Merlin's face.

Arthur followed his resolve. He showed he could be strong if he wanted to and if he felt disgusted with himself after killing Caerleon in cold blood, he certainly was not about to admit it to his manservant.

“So, you don't regret what you did?” Merlin insisted, averting his eyes as he unpacked Arthur's clothes.

Arthur looked at him disbelievingly after washing his face off the dirty of the road. “My conscience is clean, Merlin, which is more than I can say for my room. So, just do your job, will you?”

“Look, I'm just saying, if there's something bothering you, you can talk to me. You shouldn't push your friends away, you know? Not now. Not when you need them the most.”

Merlin sounded like he was really worried about Arthur and that somehow made Arthur angrier at him.

Arthur looked Merlin in the eye, trying to convince himself as well as Merlin. “You're wrong, Merlin. I don't need anyone. I can't afford that luxury.” He watched Merlin's features fall and felt a twisted satisfaction at that. “The Kingdom is my responsibility now. Mine to bear alone. And you must learn to accept that.”

Merlin nodded, looking disappointed.

Agravaine wasn't done giving him some directions, though, and he soon pointed out how Arthur had been remiss to his duties to his Kingdom in regard of his other servant, Guinevere.

Again, Arthur could see reason in what Agravaine said, only it did not turn it into an easy decision, so he reflected upon it as he targeted his frustration and anger at the punching bag that afternoon, at the training field. In the end, the fact that he wasn't feeling like the best match to Guinevere anymore helped him set his mind. He should set her free, for he was not being entirely honest with her. Even if he kept Merlin at safe distance, he still dreamed about his servant and still wished for his comfort at night.

The perspective of a coming battle with Caerleon's men suited his mood perfectly. That evening, when Merlin was preparing his bed, Arthur decided to get it done with before he could change his mind again.

“Off again?” Merlin asked after noticing Arthur putting his cloak on and preparing to leave the castle. “Another week in the wilderness? Eating weird animals, being eaten by weird animals? No hot water, no baths? This will be the last time either of us get to sleep in a proper bed.”

“Merlin, I'm prepared to face all manner of horrors in this world, but if you think I'm sharing this bed with you...” Arthur said somewhat cruelly, and watched Merlin force a laugh.

“What? No, that's not what I meant.” He looked sheepish as he said that.

“Right.” Arthur made sure to sound unconvinced. “Good. Comfort to know.”

“Where are you going?”

“That's my business. And Merlin, don't be here when I come back.”

Even if Arthur was being purposefully harsh with Merlin, punishing him for his own inner turmoil, Arthur did not want Merlin to be around after he had ended things with Guinevere. He knew Merlin would admonish him for that and he feared what he could do to Merlin in that state of mind.

Facing Guinevere was worse than he could ever had imagined. Instead of being angry at him, she had seen right through his façade. She had looked him in the eye and her next words were very similar to Merlin's, when Arthur had decided to humiliate King Caerleon.

“Arthur... listen to yourself.” She had said. “This doesn't sound like the man I know. You've been talked into this, haven't you?”

Arthur denied it and insisted he made his own decisions, but as he was lying in his bed that night, it started to down on him how blind he had been.

.oOo.

The next evening found them camping near Queen Annis’ army and Arthur watched from his tent while his Knights teased Merlin by the campfire, making him laugh. He was monetarily overwhelmed by that familiar feeling of annoyance and satisfaction as he witnessed how close they seemed to be now. It should be Arthur there, pestering Merlin, provoking him, but he felt glad for that, anyway. At least they would be sure to take care of Merlin if something happened to his master.

Merlin caught him staring and the other Knights turned to look as well. They sobered up once they realized the King had been watching them and Merlin's smile died out slowly.

“We should all get some sleep.” Arthur said and turned back to his tent.

Arthur opened up his heart to Merlin later, when the servant was tending to Arthur's armor. He confessed his mistakes and his regrets and felt thankful for Merlin's attempt to cheer him up, but his guilt was too heavy upon his shoulders.

Arthur felt tempted to ask Merlin to sleep inside his tent, so that he would not feel so lonely, but perhaps it was better that he didn't. He couldn't trust himself not to ask anything of Merlin, now that he had ended things with Guinevere, and it was too risky when anyone could walk inside his tent unannounced.

Besides, this way Arthur didn’t have to worry about waking Merlin when he sneaked out of his tent to the enemy's camping at night.

.oOo.

Of course Arthur should have known Merlin would find a way of following him to Queen Annis’ tent when he sought her to ask for a single combat.

Arthur was mad at his manservant. “You almost got me killed in there,” he accused when they were released by the Queen's guards.

“Me?” Merlin said. “You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself.”

Arthur turned to look at him. “What is wrong with you? Why can you never just let me be?”

“I'm your friend!” Merlin declared, simply. “I was looking out for you.”

Arthur did not want to hear that. He wanted Merlin to hate him, to make him pay for his arrogance, for never listening to him. He needed Merlin to punch him or slap him in the face like Queen Annis had done earlier. He deserved nothing less.

Arthur stepped up to him. “I appreciate that, in your very _confused_ way, you're only trying to help. But, please, don't do it again.”

Deep down, Arthur knew it to be unfair. Yet, no matter how much he snapped at Merlin or how misplaced his anger was on him, Merlin never called him out for it nor expected his apologies. He would not think twice before reprimanding Arthur for mistreating others, but he never demanded to be treated differently neither especially, even if he had every right to.

Arthur contemplated that as he allowed Merlin to help him into his armor, the next day. He wondered if Merlin still kept the pin Arthur gave him, with his mother's sigil. He wondered if Merlin would still cherish it if Arthur lost today's battle and thus part of his Kingdom.

As it always seemed to happen in those moments, Arthur's mind turned back to Guinevere at last and once again Arthur asked something of Merlin: for him to give his ring to Guinevere together with his apologies, in case something happened to him.

“Of course,” Merlin agreed promptly, but then he pleaded with him again. “Arthur, do you really think this is worth the risk? You're King now. Camelot needs you. Alive.” There was a touch of despair in his voice.

Arthur really wished Merlin could understand him. “I don't know what will happen. But for the first time since I became king, I know in my heart I've made the right decision.” He smiled reassuringly at his friend.

Merlin looked away, displaying his profile. Once again, Arthur drank of the vision taking in every detail of Merlin's face and keeping them at heart.

“Well, whatever happens out there... Erm...” Merlin swallowed visibly.

“You're not about to start crying on me, are you?”

“No. Just, er, good luck.”

Arthur smiled fondly, his eyes darting down to Merlin's lips on their own accord. He wished he was braver when it came to Merlin. He wished he could say how much Merlin meant to him, albeit sometimes he was not entirely sure he understood it himself.

“Thank you, old friend.” Arthur grabbed Merlin's forearm and shook it firmly. He was about to pull Merlin into a hug when Agravaine entered, calling him for the battle.

.oOo.

At some point, Arthur was sure he was going to lose. The Gods must have taken pity on him, though, for he managed not only to overpower Annis’ champion, but also to make peace with her.

Once the danger was gone, Arthur slipped back into his bantering with Merlin and asked for Guinevere's forgiveness. He still did not feel deserving of her love, and there was a long way to go before he could make her his wife. He had yet to prove to his council and his people he was worthy of the crown before he could marry whomever he intended to, but maybe he didn't have to always go against his better judgement to be a good King, after all.

Arthur was still too selfish to let go of Guinevere and none of his misdeeds seemed to be enough to push Merlin away, so perhaps he could manage to keep both of them, in the end.

.Merlin.

Too soon, Arthur was forced to face Merlin's mortality again. They were ambushed near the Valley of the Fallen Kings when their route was supposed to be a secret and they were vastly outnumbered, so Arthur had been pretty occupied fighting when it happened; all he saw was Merlin sprawled on the floor while the horseman who attacked him still charged forward with his mace.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted and surged for the horseman, running his sword through him before going to his manservant's aid. “Merlin!” Arthur flipped him around searching for his wound and found his clothes torn in his chest, where the mace had struck him. Arthur shook Merlin's arms, but the boy was barely conscious.

Arthur looked around and saw his men fighting. There were too many mercenaries, they could not possibly fight them all. Arthur had to make a hasty decision, but he did not hesitate as he pulled Merlin to his feet, passing one of his arms around his shoulders and supporting most of his weight. “Come on, Merlin, I need you to stay awake.”

One attacker came their way and Arthur prepared to fight him with his free arm, but Gwaine jumped in front of them. “Go!” the Knight said, as he bought them time.

Arthur did not waste any moment. He had to drag Merlin the first steps, but then the boy seemed to wake up a bit, holding onto his shoulder. They entered the woods, and walked as far as they could go from the battle before ducking behind some tree roots, hiding from their pursuers.

Merlin tried to make light of their situation, but Arthur was worried. It was evident that Merlin was in too much pain. They had to find shelter and hope for the Knights to come back for them with reinforcements in time.

They were still being pursued and had to keep moving all through the day, though they were not getting any near Camelot in that pace.

“A night's rest and you'll be polishing my armor,” Arthur said as the forest darkened. He was exhausted from carrying the weight of his chain mail combined with most of Merlin's weight. “They could definitely do with a scrub.”

Merlin was grunting with every step, although he never complained.

Arthur found a place for them to spend the night and eased Merlin down against a fallen log, crouching beside him. He removed his glove, panting, and tugged on Merlin's clothes to inspect his wound.

It was not pretty. It was starting to become dark around the deep cuts of the mace's thorns and it was soon to be infecting if they didn’t find a way to clean it. Merlin looked up at him, surprised, and only then Arthur noticed how much he had leaned into Merlin's personal space.

“I've seen worse.” Arthur declared, looking away. “I've definitely seen worse.”

“On a dead man,” Merlin chuckled at his own joke.

“You're not going to die, Merlin. Don't be such a coward.” Arthur covered Merlin's chest and pulled Merlin's worn coat over the wound as he sat beside him.

“If I do die, will you call me a hero?”

“Probably.”

“But whilst I'm still alive, I'm a coward?”

“That's the way these things work, I'm afraid. You get the glory when you're not around to appreciate it.”

Merlin scoffed. “Well… unless you're the King.”

“Come on, it's got to have some advantages.”

“You have a very good servant.” Merlin smiled teasingly, but then pulled a face at the pain.

“You're right. I do.” Arthur said with rare honesty. “A servant who's extremely brave. And incredibly loyal, to be honest. Not at all cowardly.”

Merlin looked at him from the corner of his eyes, as if waiting for the moment Arthur would take back his words, but Arthur was not going to. They held each other's eyes for a long instant before Arthur looked away. He could still feel Merlin's eyes on him, though.

“Thank you for saving my life.” Merlin said at last.

“You'd do the same for me.”

And Arthur had no doubt about that, albeit he was not sure if Merlin's life was out of risk yet.

They lay side by side all through the night. Arthur did not catch much sleep, startling at every noise and concerned about Merlin's struggle to breath. He took whatever excuse to touch Merlin from time to time, feeling the clammy skin of his hand and forehead to watch over the fever that had started to creep in through the night. He needed to get Merlin to Gaius soon.

.oOo.

They had to move in the morning, lest they were caught by their enemies. Merlin was too weak to walk, so Arthur threw him over his shoulder, ignoring his pleas to be left behind.

They did not manage to go far before they found a mercenary. Arthur had to put his manservant on the ground in the middle of a crevice to pull out his sword and he tried to keep the fight as far away from Merlin as he could, but there were more men coming from the opposite side. Arthur was ready to face them all, praying only that they left Merlin alone, when there was a rock fall. Arthur shouted desperately as he was separated from Merlin and he tried to get past the stones, but they were too big and the crevice too narrow.

Arthur had no option but to retreat and find help. He implored to whatever Gods were watching over him that Merlin had had the sense to pretend to be dead. He was just a servant after all, the mercenaries had nothing to gain from him.

Arthur sent back as many men as he could to scour every inch of the forest searching for Merlin. As he insisted to Gaius that Merlin was sure to be still alive, he did not know if he was trying to reassure the man or himself.

Arthur refused to eat, refused to hear Agravaine’s advices to call off the searching patrols and also refused to acknowledge George, the replacement servant his uncle had picked him. It felt wrong to replace Merlin; he was alive, Arthur knew it. He ignored the pitying looks his men gave him and the only thing that kept him from lashing out on them was that he knew some of them were suffering nearly as much as Arthur was.

When his patrols came back with nothing, Arthur made the decision to go search himself. Guinevere followed him to the Square when he was leaving, but Arthur wasn't going to listen to her this time. As much as she claimed she was as worried as him, she did not understand; she could never understand.

“I have to go.” Arthur said adamant, readying his horse.

“The patrol's found no sign of him,” Guinevere insisted, frowning.

“Do you really expect me to accept that? Just to sit here and take their word that Merlin's gone? I won't rest until I at least try.”

“I know, but just...” she looked a bit exasperated. “Do one thing for me. Please, don't go alone.”

Gwaine showed up then, already mounting his horse, ready to accompany him. Arthur wasn't exactly pleased, but at least it seemed to put Guinevere's mind at rest, so he resigned himself with Gwaine nonstop prattle about Merlin's virtues all through the way. As if Arthur did not know everything there was to know about his manservant. Arthur only half-listened to him as he retraced the path to the last place he had last seen Merlin.

To Arthur's utter relief, they found Merlin coming out of the woods, completely covered in mud and laughing at seeing them.

Arthur never thought he could miss a laugh this much.

“Merlin!” Arthur dismounted and run to him, pulling him into a hug without sparing a thought to the filth he was sure to get all over himself.

Merlin was stinking and utterly disgusting, yet Arthur could not stop laughing too. And if he held Merlin in his arms longer than appropriate, he had every reason to.

“Why, you keep hugging me like this and I'll think you missed me, Sire!” Merlin said and Arthur finally let go of him, though he kept his hold on Merlin's sides as he shook him.

“Don't flatter yourself, you idiot. I just run out of clean socks and my armor could certainly use some polishing,” Arthur looked down on his own stained armor. “You see? I'm repulsive.”

“Merlin!” Arthur took a step back when Gwaine approached them, looking away to catch his breath as the Knight hugged Merlin too. “Ugh! Good heavens, where you rolling on horse dung? I know you must have used what you could to disguise yourself, but you could’ve just hidden behind a bush, you know?”

“Hey,” Arthur pushed Gwaine away from Merlin when he remembered the boy's wound, tugging at his dirty clothes. “Let me see it.”

“I'm fine,” Merlin held his hand firmly, still smiling like a fool. “I could use a bath, though.”

Arthur surveyed his face for a moment, trying to see any hint of pain, but Merlin looked healthy enough and Arthur probably would not be able to see anything past all that mud. He would ask for Gaius’ opinion when they got back to Camelot.

“Right,” Arthur said, motioning towards his horse. “Well, let's go, then.”

“You can ride with me, Merlin,” Gwaine said as he mounted his horse, but Arthur scowled at him.

“He'll come with me,” Arthur said, mounting his own stallion and extending his hand to Merlin. “He'll have to wash my cloak later, anyway.”

“Of course,” Merlin rolled his eyes as he accepted Arthur's help to hop up the saddle behind him.

“And before you say anything, I do not want to hear another word about giving you a day off for the next year to come,” Arthur said, kicking his horse. “You had too many already.”

.Merlin.

Arthur never thought he would live to see the day Merlin would show any sign of jealousy towards Guinevere, but apparently his servant was not above that.

Arthur had checked on Merlin last night and Gaius said he seemed to be fine, if a little underfed and dehydrated; his wounds seemed to have healed greatly, against all odds, and Gaius mentioned something about the mud helping scarring, but Arthur was just glad that Merlin's life wasn’t at risk anymore. Arthur told the physician to see that Merlin was fully recovered before he could go back to his duties and was happy to allow Guinevere to care for him the next morning.

When Merlin showed up in his room with a plate of food, Arthur was just thanking Guinevere for serving his meal.

“Oh, I might've known.” Merlin said as he entered,

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur greeted, genuinely pleased to see him.

“What's this?” Merlin sounded reproachful.

“Uh...” Arthur looked down at the table. “Lunch?”

Merlin addresses Guinevere then, his voice husky and hostile. “Look, I know you like to take every opportunity to be by his side, but this is just getting ridiculous. You'll be pouring his bath water next.”

Arthur watched Guinevere's smile fade at Merlin's words and she looked hurt. Arthur was shocked too, for he had never witnessed Merlin using that tone with Guinevere before. “Merlin, is something wrong?”

Merlin pointed to the food Guinevere had brought him. “This is what's wrong.”

“I was just trying to help.” Guinevere explained herself, trying to sound friendly. “I thought you needed some rest.”

“Rest? No, no, I don't need rest.” Merlin dismissed her words. “Do you know how long it took me to prepare this meal? I cooked it myself.” Merlin said as he switched the plates.

Arthur switched it back, half annoyed and half amused. “I think this is just a case of a simple misunderstanding.”

Merlin crossed his arms stubbornly, looking from one to the other. “Ah, yes. Well, you would take her side, wouldn't you?”

“Excuse me?” Arthur was starting to get worried. “Merlin, I think you must be tired. You've been through quite an ordeal.”

“I just want to resume my normal duties.”

“Well, I'll be pleased to have your assistance preparing for the knighting ceremony later.” Arthur handed Merlin's plate back to him.

Merlin stared at his master, lips tight and eyes narrowed. He forced his features to relax, then. “Thank you, Sire.” He glared at Guinevere's tentative smile before starting to leave. Merlin turned around as if intending to say something, but he must have come to his senses, for he left without another word.

Arthur exchanged a disbelieving look with Guinevere.

“Perhaps he's under the effect of some strong remedy Gaius gave him,” Guinevere offered.

Arthur cleared his throat, glad for her attempt at explaining Merlin's unusual behavior. Of course she would not suspect anything; she was oblivious to what used to happen between them.

“Indeed,” he said and popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.

For his part, Arthur was struck with a mistimed feeling of contentment. It was good to have some proof that Merlin was capable of feeling jealousy, after all. It showed that he was as prone to flaws as Arthur.

.Merlin.

Arthur indulged Merlin's impertinence the next days, too glad to be rid of George's stiff demeanor to reprimand Merlin for waking him up sticking food in his mouth and literally dragging him out of bed and into the floor, covers and everything.

There was a matter of treason to be addressed, though, and Agravaine had insisted on bringing Gaius in for interrogation, questioning him about his ties to the sorcerer who had killed King Uther. Gaius denied having anything to do with the information leak, but his actions contradicted his words, for he was nowhere to be found the next day.

Arthur chose to disregard Merlin's accusations on Agravaine that day. Merlin had the audacity to claim Arthur’s uncle had forged Gaius’s fleeing and it would have been enough to have him flogged, if not worse. Yet, Arthur knew Merlin was suffering from being abandoned by Gaius without so much as a goodbye, he could not be blamed for what he said in his hurt.

“I shall ignore that last comment,” Arthur said condescending. He refused to punish Merlin for that when he was also upset about Gaius' treason himself.

“Because he's your uncle, you will not see who he really is,” Merlin had accused him, struggling to hold the tears.

“Merlin!” Arthur snapped. “I've had my heart broken enough already today. I don't want to lose another friend.” He stood up briskly. “Gaius condemned himself.” Arthur grabbed the book of magic found in the physician's chambers and slapped it soundly on the table on his way out of the Council Chamber. “There's no more to be said.”

Next thing Arthur knew, Merlin had found an ally on Gwaine and they both had searched and rescued Gaius from his actual kidnappers. Arthur was devastated when he heard of it. Not only had he doubted Merlin's words again, but it should have been him going in that rescuing mission with Merlin, not Gwaine.

“I think I owe both of you an apology,” Arthur said as he found Merlin sitting by Gaius's bed.

Merlin looked at him from over his shoulder. “Not to me. To Gaius.”

“Yes,” Arthur admitted, thankful. “Merlin, will you give us a moment?”

Merlin kept his back to Arthur. “Does that mean I get the morning off?”

Gaius smiled at that and Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, you can have the morning off to... clean my chambers, polish my armor, and launder my clothes.”

Merlin turned to him again, frowning. “You certainly know how to apologize.”

Arthur shrugged. He held Merlin gaze as he left, grateful for his friend's understanding. Sometimes it felt like they had an entire conversation with just their eyes, with no need to utter a single word.

Gaius was not as ready to forgive him as Merlin was – alas, no one was as forgiving as Merlin – yet Arthur was thankful for the old man's honesty. The physician also claimed that the old sorcerer whose identity he was protecting had tried everything in his power to save Uther, only the King had been beyond salvation. He implied the sorcerer had been watching for Arthur and had protected him more times than he could imagine.

Arthur wanted to believe Gaius, but his aversion to magic was too deeply ingrained in him. Still, it was apparent that Gaius truly believed in what he was saying. Arthur only wished he had treated Gaius with the respect he deserved, but there was no going back now.

.Merlin.

Arthur felt lonely after assigning both Guinevere and Merlin – the latter as the acting physician – to travel to Longstead to investigate the strange illness that had taken some of the village's men. As it was meant to be only for a couple of days, hopefully he would not even notice the passing of time, since he had much work to do in Camelot.

When they did not get back at the expected time, Arthur began to worry. He ignored his uncle's offer to send a few of his men and asked Gaius to join them on their way to the village.

They did not find their party in Longstead and their trail lead them to east, instead of west, towards Camelot. Arthur was becoming really worried and his uncle's lack of faith in his tracking skills were starting to annoy him. Fortunately, Guinevere had had the presence of mind to leave behind more than footprints and soon they found an abandoned castle.

Once inside, it was easy to find them; all Arthur had to do was to follow the menacing hisses of some strange creature – Gaius had mentioned some mingling of a girl and a serpent – and he found it in time to throw his spear at it's back, saving both Guinevere _and_ Merlin.

“Arthur!” Guinevere said as she scrambled to her feet and jumped into his arms.

Arthur laughed, amazed, as he hugged her back.

“You carry on,” he heard Merlin say as he tried to get up. “Don't worry about me.”

“Sorry.” Arthur let go of Guinevere and moved to help a groaning Merlin to his feet as he laughed still. He grabbed Merlin's arm and looked down at him, searching for injuries. Luckily he found none. “It's almost good to see you, Merlin.”

“Likewise.” Merlin said with a mixture of smiling and grimace.

“Almost.” Arthur emphasized teasingly, turning his back on him and circling Guinevere's shoulders as they walked away to find the other Knights. He looked over his shoulder only to make sure Merlin was following them.

.oOo.

Later, when they were taking the still unconscious men back to the village and into Gaius' care, Guinevere told her King all about their ordeal. She mentioned the Lamia girl had put some kind of spell over the Knights, making them enamored for her and provoking fights amongst them. The only ones that were not affected by the creature were Guinevere and Merlin.

“Which is strange, if you consider it,” Guinevere was saying as they rode together, her back to Arthur's front. They were keeping a slow pace so that the others were able to follow them on foot. “You'd expect she enchanted all of them, but she pointedly avoided Merlin's touch and acted nearly aggressively towards him. In fact, Merlin was the first one to suspect of her.”

“Strange indeed,” Arthur said, looking over his shoulder.

Merlin was walking on foot right behind them, guiding a horse with two unconscious Knights toppled over it's saddle. He looked back at Arthur when noticing his stare and raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Arthur averted his eyes.

“Now that I'm stopping to think about it, I've never seen Merlin with any girls,” Guinevere mused. “You think he’s not interested in them?”

Arthur hesitated for a moment, his heart beating slightly faster. “What do you mean?”

Guinevere shrugged. “Perhaps he’s indifferent to them, like some religious men seem to be. Or,” she said, as if considering it just now, “perhaps his heart’s already taken! Like mine!”

Arthur scoffed, trying not to sound like he was too desperate to change the subject. “Or, perhaps he’s just too simple-minded.”

“It makes sense!” Guinevere insisted, ignoring his last comment. “Perhaps he has pledged his heart to someone, already. Why else would he not show any interest when there's plenty of maids who whisper and jiggle when he walks by them?”

“What?” Arthur asked, now trying not to sound too curious. “Are you sure it isn't some other kind of whispering and giggling? Like the mocking kind?”

Guinevere looked over her shoulder with a reproachful smile. “Oh, don't be cruel. Merlin has his charms. He's sweet and gentle and maybe we was a bit awkward when he first arrived, but he's grown into a beautiful man.”

“Beautiful!” Arthur scoffed, looking around the forest to avoid her stare. That conversation was getting too disturbing, suddenly.

“Yes, he is!” Guinevere insisted, keeping her voice down. “And he's the King's manservant, so he's quite a nice catch for any of the maids.”

“Except for you.” Arthur made another attempt to change the subject, smirking at her. “You could do much better than Merlin. In fact, you can do much better than any of the Ladies at the court!”

Her smile became loving when he grabbed her chin and pulled her into a kiss. She caressed his hand on her waist, but then frowned, breaking the kiss. “Do you think he has a secret forbidden crush or something?”

Arthur scowled, groaning. “How am I to know? He could be an eunuch for all I care. Besides, it's better if he doesn't engage in any romantic adventures. He already lives with his head in the clouds in any given day! And he certainly doesn't have the time for girls, what with all the–”

“Alright, alright,” Guinevere interrupted him and Arthur could hear the amusement in her voice even if she did not turn to look at him this time. “I won't mention it again.”

Arthur opened his mouth to ask what did she mean by that, but closed it again with an irritated huff. He really should not insist on the subject. The truth was, Arthur could take a guess about the reason the beast had not affected Merlin. Perhaps he was immune to her enchantments, since she had the wrong gender to bewitch him.

Arthur would not mention that to Guinevere, though. It wasn't any of their business, after all.

“How come you were carrying a sword when I found you?” Arthur asked instead and Guinevere chuckled.

“Oh, you wouldn't believe it if I told you...”

.Merlin.

Guinevere's courage and the way she had stood up to the creature to save Merlin's life helped Arthur make a final decision: it was about time he acted upon his promise to Guinevere.

Arthur did not tell Merlin in advance about his intentions, but he made sure Merlin was present when he told his uncle. He had sent for Agravaine and the guards brought him into his chambers while Merlin was unsuspectingly polishing his master's armor.

“It's late, Arthur. What's troubling you?” his uncle had asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Arthur assured him. “But I've made a decision and I felt it only right to inform you right away, though I feel you're not going to like what I have to say... I'm going to marry Guinevere.”

His words were followed by clatter when Merlin dropped his sword in surprise.

“Sorry,” Merlin said, ducking to pick it up. He had his back to Arthur, so he could not see the boy's face.

Arthur turned back to his uncle. “That is, if she says yes.”

“Sire–” Agravaine started to say, but Arthur cut him off.

“No. I know what you're going to say. She's a servant. I'm the King. It's not the done thing.”

“I fear it's a little more serious than that.” Agravaine said with his condescending smile.

Arthur ignored him. “Guinevere has proved herself valuable support and true counselor these past few months.”

“You don't need a woman for support, Sire.” Agravaine insisted, raising his voice. “I– I'm your counsel.”

Arthur frowned at his uncle. “I fear you have rather too much stubble to be my wife.”

They heard Merlin's chuckle at that, though he belatedly tried to cover it up with a cough. Arthur felt good at making fun of Agravaine in front of his servant. He knew Merlin did not like his uncle since Gaius' kidnapping and, if Arthur were to be honest, he was beginning to feel annoyed at his uncle's constant opposition as well.

“Good counsel, solid support, they're exactly what I need.” Arthur reasoned. “I don't want a Queen who spends her days floating around the castle agreeing with my every word. And the people don't want that either. So, I've made up my mind. I want Guinevere to be my Queen, and I want you to accept her as such.”

After a moment's hesitation, Agravaine nodded, forcing a subservient smile. Arthur dismissed him and filled his cup with more wine when he left.

“I’...” Arthur heard Merlin saying at his back. “I'm proud of you, Sire.”

Arthur turned to face him, taking the time he used to drink to study his smiling servant's face for any sign of dishonesty. “You do?” he asked, trying not to sound too disbelieving.

Merlin looked down, examining the crest on the belt he was polishing, the shadows elongating below his cheekbones. “I know you didn't ask my opinion, but... If you did, I'd tell you I think she's going to say yes!”

“Good, I'm counting on that.” Arthur lowered his cup and folded his arms, leaning his hip against the side of the table. “I'm counting on your help to prepare for my proposal too.”

“Of course,” Merlin said, and this time his smile was a little tight at the edges. “Whatever you need me to do.”

Arthur gave him the instructions as he moved behind the screen to undress, slipping into his sleeping breeches. Once he stepped out of the changing screen, Merlin had his back to him and was gathering the armory.

“I'll take it downstairs not to bother you,” Merlin explained when Arthur stepped into his line of sight.

Arthur noticed how Merlin avoided looking at him. “Are you sure you're alright with this, Merlin?” Arthur could not resist asking.

He wasn’t sure what he had hoped to hear, but he felt disappointed when Merlin smiled, still without looking up.

“Why wouldn't I be?” Merlin asked in return, turning towards the door with his arms full. “Sleep tight, My Lord.”

Only later Arthur noticed Merlin hadn't actually answered his question.

.oOo.

Guinevere said yes, as Merlin had predicted, and Arthur didn’t have time to think about anything other than his wedding preparations. The whole castle was alive with the festivities to come. Merlin made a point to criticize his choice to have a tourney before the wedding, but he did not know a thing about court's tradition, so Arthur merely ignored his comment.

When none other than Lancelot showed up at the tourney, well and alive, Arthur was shaken by contradicting feelings. He was glad to learn that his former Knight had survived the veil sacrifice, but he was also worried. Was it a coincidence that he had chosen to show up right on the verge of his marriage with Guinevere?

Arthur looked at Merlin to see his reaction, but found him as stunned as himself.

“H-How?” Merlin stuttered, frowning.

“I guess we'll have to find out,” Arthur said in return.

He asked Lancelot to join him and his closest Knights at dinner that evening, when the man told him everything about his journey back to Camelot. Arthur was glad the timing of his return had been a coincidence, but he made sure to hold Guinevere's hand as he welcomed Lancelot back.

Arthur had been so preoccupied with showing his claim on Guinevere that he nearly missed the way Merlin's stare had been intent on Lancelot during the whole meal, as if he was drinking of the man's every word.

“I'm afraid we've rearranged the Knights facilities since you were missing,” Agravaine said then, calling Arthur's attention back to the table.

“Oh, yes, there's that,” Arthur said, though he still wasn't sure if he should put Lancelot back into his former position right away. In fact, he was not sure if Lancelot wanted to be back to his duties so suddenly, since he had gone through a lot to get there.

Before he could offer a solution to the facilities problem, though, Merlin finally spoke.

“He can stay with me,” Merlin offered and everyone looked at him. “I mean, my room's not much, but he can stay there until everything's arranged. Besides, he's stayed there before, when–”

“I'd be honored, Merlin,” Lancelot put a stop to Merlin's babbling. “Thank you.”

“Why, Merlin, I thought I had been your first,” Gwaine said with a wink and the others burst into laughter while Merlin opened his mouth and closed it again, blushing.

Arthur elbowed Merlin on the hips a little too hard, making the boy cringe. “Are you going to fill my cup today or not? I didn't call you here just to chat, you know? Next thing you'll be pulling up a chair!”

“Sorry, Sire.” Merlin said, leaning over to serve him some more wine. He looked up at Arthur then, his ears slightly red. “It's not as it may sound,” he whispered, looking a little panicked. “Arthur–”

“I don't really care to know, Merlin.” Arthur said coldly, taking satisfaction in the way Merlin averted his eyes, nodding as he straightened up again.

As Arthur took another sip of his drink, he found Guinevere's inquiring eyes on him. He squeezed her hand reassuringly before trying to focus on what Leon was saying.

.oOo.

Despite what Arthur believed, Merlin did not seem over the moon with joy for the remainder of the tourney. He looked a bit troubled with something and Arthur was trying not to ask too many questions, lest he discovered his servant was having second thoughts about Arthur's marriage.

When Agravaine awoke Arthur in the middle of the night before the wedding claiming there was something he should see, the last thing Arthur had in mind was his insecurity towards Guinevere. It only made it all the more painful to witness Guinevere's and Lancelot's passionate kiss.

Arthur was out of his mind with rage and disappointment. He wanted to kill Lancelot and he would have done so if Guinevere hadn't gotten between them, pleading for him to stop.

Something snapped inside of Arthur as his sword slipped out of his grasp and he watched the guards arresting both Lancelot and Guinevere, taking them to the dungeons at Agravaine's orders. He could see the regret in Guinevere's face and the way she kept looking back at him while being dragged away, but he could not feel anything towards her. Anything at all.

“Arthur,” he heard Merlin say and looked into his manservant's concerned face.

Had Merlin known? Was that the reason why he had been so troubled by Lancelot's sudden appearance?

“Arthur, please–”

“Leave me,” Arthur said, walking past him.

“Arthur!”

“I said LEAVE ME!” Arthur shouted, walking faster.

.oOo.

Arthur only half-listened to Agravaine's words later that night. He knew he would have to give the prisoners a sentence, but he did not want it to be someone else's decision. He couldn't care less for what his father did in his time. Uther wasn't the one betrayed, Arthur was.

Facing Guinevere was hard, but not as hard as he imagined it to be. He was immune to her tears. He knew she was in despair, but he did not feel moved by it. Perhaps her treason had really changed him, perhaps he was in shock, but the fact still remained that his mind was clear when he spoke to her, after sending the whole court away.

He did not intend to humiliate her; he wanted answers.

“What happened, Guinevere? We were happy. I know we were happy. You felt it too?”

She did not say a word, only nodded.

“You love him? You've always loved him?” He tried to help her speak up.

“No!” Guinevere said, promptly.

“Tomorrow was our wedding day,” Arthur said.

Guinevere nodded, closing her eyes for a moment as more tears ran down her cheeks. “I know.”

“If you had worries...” Arthur started to say, but she shook her head firmly.

“I wasn't worried.”

“If you had doubts...”

Her words were a mere whisper. “I didn't have any doubts.”

“Then forgive me, because I must be really stupid!” Arthur finally spanned then, stepping forward and grabbing her arms, shaking her. “WHAT WERE YOU DOING?”

Guinevere whimpered, seeming unable to say another word. Her lack of reaction made Arthur's anger seem foolish and he turned away, trying to calm himself again.

“Sorry,” he asked.

“No. No. No, it is I who should be sorry.” She finally seemed ready to speak and Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat as he faced her. “You mean everything to me, Arthur... Once there was Lancelot, a long time ago. But I haven't considered him in that way for many years. I thought he was dead. I thought I would never see him again, and... and then... when I did, I was... overwhelmed. I was drawn to him. I couldn't stop myself, I don't know why. I love you. You mean everything to me.” She looked like she was suffering physical pain as well as emotional while Arthur was struggling to feel anything beside anger. “All these years, I've waited for you.”

“You only had to wait one more day.”

“All I've ever wanted is to be your Queen. I still want to be your Queen.”

“Do you know what they're saying?” Arthur pointed to the doors, where his people was sure to be still gathered like vultures, waiting for him to call them back to feed on their suffering. Guinevere shook her head. “That in my father's day, you'd be put to death.”

Guinevere regarded him back, expectantly. She exhaled heavily, seeming resigned to that fate, already.

“I don't want to see you dead, Guinevere.” Arthur confessed. “But I don't want to see you. I cannot look on you every day. You will leave Camelot at first light–”

“Arthur–”

Arthur finished his sentence. “You return upon pain of death.”

“No.” She reacted as Arthur started to move towards the doors. “No, no, no! I cannot be without you!”

Arthur continued to walk past her. “That is my decision.”

“Where will I go?”

Arthur stopped by the door, looking back at her desperate face. “I am sorry. I am truly sorry.”

He left.

.Merlin.

Arthur did not see Merlin until the middle of the morning, at the Throne Room, while he watched the servants take down the wedding decoration.

“It's not too late, Sire.” Arthur heard Merlin's voice behind him “I know what Gwen did was desperately wrong, but she is a good person. I truly believe that.”

“As do I, Merlin...” Arthur said, feeling empty of all feelings but sadness. For himself, for Guinevere and for Merlin as well. “As do I.”

“Can you find it in your heart to forgive her?”

“That's not the problem.”

“Agravaine?” Merlin asked accusingly and he continued with conviction when Arthur did not deny it right away. “Well, it is Agravaine, isn't it? He's wrong. People won't find you weak or a fool. They will find you merciful, understanding.”

Arthur took a deep breath. “You're brave to speak out, Merlin. Gwen's your friend, I understand. I'm afraid you're wrong.” Arthur finally looked at Merlin, wanting him to see how honest he was being. “I love Gwen with all my heart. And I'm sure in time I'll find a way to forgive her. But I'll never trust her. I can't live like that. Not as a King, certainly not as a husband. And though it pains me... it's best that she's gone.”

Merlin's eyes were red and he did not look convinced, but before he could say anything, Agravaine approached them, calling for Arthur.

.oOo.

The guards had found Lancelot dead in his cell in the morning. Finally, Arthur had every right to hate his former Knight and yet it did not feel satisfying in the slightest to see his dead body.

When Merlin did not show up in his room later, Arthur assumed that he was mourning again. He left Merlin alone, for once.

.Merlin.

**Dub-con warning!**

That evening, Arthur had far too much wine. The fact that the food served had been prepared specially for his wedding did not exactly work up his appetite, so he stuck to drinking, mostly. The serving girl attending to him during the dinner made sure that his glass was always filled and at some point Arthur started to indulge himself in her shy smiles. There had been many young girls making themselves available for Arthur since he had showed his favoritism to one of their own, but Arthur had always pretended not to take notice of their flirting or turned them down gently when they did not care to be subtle about it. Now, there was no point to it anymore.

Arthur had been respectful and patient and faithful to Guinevere all this time when he could have had any girls he wished. When he could have had Merlin servicing him whenever he wanted. And what had he gained out of it?

When his vision started to blur, Arthur asked the serving girl to accompany him to his chambers. She was young and beautiful, if a little too thin; her skin was fair and her hair dark. She allowed him to circle his arm around her waist during the long walk, although it was possible that she was keeping him upright more than the other way around, since he could not help leaning part of his weight into her skinny frame. She giggled and kissed his neck instead of complaining.

She guided him towards the bed and leaned over him, kissing him and moaning wantonly. Arthur allowed her to caress his face and chest, but when she touched the front of his breeches, he found himself pushing her away. Perhaps a little too hard, given the way she fell off the bed with a startled yelp.

"Go get Merlin for me," Arthur said, tugging at the laces of his cape.

"Sire?" the girl asked, unsure.

"I can't get out of this bloody thing." He managed to untie the cape, but it had tangled on his legs when he fell on the mattress and his limbs seemed too heavy to cooperate.

"But sure I can help you with–" she reached for his clothes, but Arthur batted her hand away.

"Go get Merlin, I said!" He shouted, making her squeal and step back.

"Right away, Sire."

Arthur gave up trying to free himself from his clothes when she left and put an arm over his eyes. Next thing he knew, there was someone tugging at his tunic. He groaned and moved to shoo the girl away once again, but found Merlin looking down on him, tight-lipped.

"Easy," Merlin said, moving his hands away. "Let's get you out of this vile things, shall we?"

Arthur grunted, but let his arms fall limp again, moving as little as he could while Merlin undressed him. He found himself more awake, though, mourning the loss of the buzz caused by the wine. His head was beginning to throb.

When Arthur was down to his underpants, Merlin dragged his legs up the mattress and below the covers.

Arthur watched as Merlin went over the hearth then, throwing another log into the fire, looking distracted. Again, when everything seemed to be changing around Arthur, Merlin was the only one that never changed. No matter how much Arthur pushed him away.

"Merlin," Arthur called, motioning for him to come closer when he looked up.

Merlin sighed, but walked back to his side with resignation. "Sire?"

Arthur reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling him down. Caught by surprise, Merlin lost his balance and flopped down on the edge of the bed. He tried to free himself from Arthur's grip, but Arthur pulled him even closer.

"Make me forget," Arthur whispered, looking straight into Merlin's eyes.

"Arthur..." The frown was replaced by sorrow, but Arthur would not hear of it.

"Make me forget her, Merlin.” He repeated firmly. “Please."

Merlin held his stare for a while, his face blank, and Arthur was struck with the possibility that Merlin had changed his mind about him. What if he was taking Merlin's feeling for granted when there was nothing left? What if Merlin did not feel that way about him anymore? What if he had never felt that way? What if Arthur had been wrong all along?

To Arthur's relief, Merlin nodded, at last. Arthur let go of his hands and fumbled with the laces of his pants, but Merlin took charge of that in a moment, after pulling the covers from over his legs. Arthur allowed his head to fall back onto the pillow and closed his eyes when Merlin took him in his mouth, sighing with relief. Goodness, how he had missed that mouth on him. His cock grew bigger and harder under Merlin's tongue to the point where Merlin had to take him out to catch his breath.

When Merlin did not take him in again right away, Arthur looked up, eyes questioning.

"Do you trust me?" Merlin asked gravely.

"I do," Arthur answered in a blink.

Merlin nodded once again and moved up to push Arthur's pants further down. He circled the bed then, searching for something in a drawer. He grabbed a bottle from it and walked back at Arthur's bedside, taking off his own boots.

"What are you–" Arthur started to protest, but Merlin silenced him with a hand to his lips.

"Hush. You'll see."

Merlin opened the bottle and poured some of the oily liquid over his hand, warming it up before rubbing Arthur's cock with it. Arthur moaned at the sensation, closing his eyes once more to better revel in it.

He opened them again when he felt the bed moving with Merlin's weight. Merlin straddled his hips and untied his own laces.

"Merlin!” Arthur reacted a little belatedly. “I'm certainly not _that_ drunk–" he started to sit, but Merlin held him down with one hand flat on Arthur's naked chest.

"Just wait. Please.” Merlin's eyes were wide and pleading. “Close your eyes, if you will. Think about the serving girl. Think about just anyone you would rather have in my place."

Arthur could not blink or move any other muscles, so he watched attentively as Merlin lowered down only the back of his trousers, then reached out for Arthur's shaft and began easing himself on it.

"Oh God," Arthur said and grabbed Merlin's thighs when he was swallowed down by blessed heat, inch by inch.

This was so wrong and broke so many of their rules! Merlin should not be in his bed; he should not stare Arthur in the eye like he was doing; Arthur should ask him to turn around, or at least he should be the one to look away and think of anybody else, like Merlin had suggested, but he couldn't take his eyes of his manservant.

Merlin let out a trembling breath when his hips met Arthur's groin and closed his eyes, staying still for a long moment whilst Arthur’s cock twitched. It had been too long since Arthur had done anything like that. He was suspecting it would be over too soon, but maybe that would be a blessing.

Merlin opened his eyes again, looking determined, and started rocking his hips up and down, barely moving at first, but getting faster as he gained confidence.

Merlin's brow was glowing with sweat, his cheeks were flushed and he was fully clothed apart from his behind, for which Arthur was grateful. It kept him grounded, even if he found himself wondering what he would see if Merlin bared his own skin to him. Arthur looked down and thought he could see Merlin's erection poking throw his breeches when the boy eased down, but how could Merlin be feeling anything remotely good? Wasn't it painful? Wasn't it dirt? Wasn't it downright humiliating? How could he subject himself to this?

Arthur stopped thinking when his balls drew up. He gripped Merlin's flesh through the rough fabric of his breeches and closed his eyes as his breath faltered and then his pleasure overtook him. He held Merlin down when it became too much and bucked up to him a few times before going limp, panting hard.

He felt Merlin ease himself up, releasing his sensitive cock, but kept his eyes firmly shut as Merlin dismounted him and climbed out of the bed. Arthur thought he could hear Merlin's heavy breathing even when the boy moved away after cleaning him, fixing his pants back and covering him.

Arthur barely heard the door shut, but refused to open his eyes, afraid that he would find Merlin still there if he dared to.

.oOo.

**ATTENTION: Non-con warning!**

Arthur's night had been restless. He had not been able to get much sleep, his mind filled with unsettling thoughts.

He was angry. He was angry at Guinevere for disappointing him; at Lancelot for failing his so called unparalleled honor; at his Knights for looking at him with pity last night; at his uncle for being right about Guinevere not being right for him; but mostly he was angry at Merlin. For making him believe he could be with Guinevere despite tradition; for making him hope; for encouraging him to propose to her and announce their upcoming marriage to the whole Kingdom and therefore make a fool of himself for everyone to see; for his selflessness; for breaking their rules; for stepping the line; for abusing his trust and taking advantage of his moment of weakness.

When Merlin entered his chambers the next morning bringing his tray of food, opening the curtains cheerfully and acting like nothing had happened, Arthur took him by surprise moving behind him, pushing his arms back and holding them secure, keeping him from moving away.

Merlin yelped. “Arthur...?” he asked, trying to look back at him.

“Have you been with somebody else?” Arthur asked, close to his ear.

“No!” Merlin answered right away. “Never! If this is about what Gwaine said the other day–”

Arthur cut him off, shaking him. “How did you know what to do, then? And don't tell me you learned about it from hearing my men talk. You seemed pretty sure of yourself. And you never even flinched!”

“Arthur–”

“Was it Lancelot? Was it Gwaine?” he shouted, Making Merlin flinch. “ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

“No! I told you already! There has been no one!”

“Then explain it to me!” Arthur said between gritted teeth. “How did you learn how to do it? Was it some courtesan who taught you? Have you been flapping your mouth–”

“No, I... I–I...” Merlin swallowed hard. “I've done... things... to myself.”

Arthur blinked, frowning. “What kind of things?”

“I've...” Merlin closed his eyes, breathing hard. “I've been touching myself there.”

“And?” Arthur insisted, his cock stirring and filling quickly at those words.

“And... And thrusting my fingers in.”

Arthur pushed Merlin ahead and forced him to bend over the table until his right cheek rested over the wood, his own mind flooding with images of Merlin naked and alone in his room, fingers buried deep inside his ass, face rosy and lips parted. “And?”

“And a broom handle once.” Arthur pulled Merlin’s arms tighter and the boy grimaced with pain. “A couple of times, perhaps.”

Arthur's breath hitched at that and he had to close his eyes for a moment to calm down. “Do you like it, Merlin?” He stepped closer to his servant, fitting his erection between Merlin's arse cheeks, pressing himself into his back, touching his lips on the shell of Merlin's ear as he spoke. “Do you like to have things shoved up your ass?”

“Ngh.” Merlin grunted in reply.

Arthur twisted Merlin's arms. “I didn't hear you.”

“Yes!”

“Is this what you do in that filthy room of yours? Biting the pillow not to make any noises? Fast and quick, fearing that Gaius would barge in any moment and catch you at it?”

Arthur hated every word he said. He hated the cruelty on his voice when he said them, but he kept going. Only, he wasn't sure if he was punishing Merlin or himself by it.

“Arthur… You’re hurting me.”

Arthur fit his hand between Merlin’s front and the table. “Do you picture me while you do it?” He fumbled with the laces of Merlin's breeches one-handedly, while still keeping a tight grip on his wrists. “Is it my name you call when you're done?”

Arthur pulled his own breeches down and guided the tip of his cock to Merlin's hole. He tried to push it dry, but it would not break through the tight resistance of his muscles. He had never done it before. He heard that some girls did it, but he had always thought it somewhat disgusting and impractical.

“Arthur, please, wait–” Merlin tried to free his hands, but Arthur tightened his grip on him.

“Quiet!” Arthur spat on his cock then and pushed in more forcefully. Merlin cried out and tried to jerk away, but Arthur thrust deeper still, placing one hand firmly over his mouth when he yelped again. “Shhh!” Arthur reprimanded, closing his eyes at the heat enveloping his skin. “I'm just giving you what you want, Merlin.”

Arthur started moving and Merlin whimpered. At first, it was too dry and tight to be good, but then it became easier as Merlin relaxed under him. Arthur removed his hand from the boy's mouth slowly, ready to silence him again in case he screamed, but Merlin merely gasped, his limp body rocking at every thrust. Arthur grasped Merlin's hip and pushed harder and faster until he was spilling his release.

Arthur moved away as soon as it was over, releasing Merlin's arms. Merlin slid bonelessly to the floor in a quivering lump of awkward limbs. He stood there unmoving but for the rapid rise and fall of his chest while Arthur fixed his own clothes. Arthur walked to the water basin then, washing his hands and throwing some water at his face with shaking hands.

Merlin started to move after a moment, sniffing quietly as he slowly stood up. He brought his own pants up and Arthur pretended not to see when he wiped his eyes. “Would there be anything else, Sire?” he asked, keeping his back to Arthur, voice trembling.

“Leave.” Arthur's voice faltered with barely suppressed rage.

And so Merlin did, keeping his head down as he went, his back too stiff.

Arthur knocked the water basing over and rested his elbows over the dresser, hiding his face in his palms as he cried.

.Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **¹** This part of the conversation belongs to a deleted scene and, since I can’t figure out exactly when it was supposed to happen in the chapter, I simply added it here.
> 
> I assure you this is the worst it gets, so if you came this far, you might as well keep reading.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here, it means you're considering giving this story (and Arthur) one more chance, which I'm grateful for. I hope you won't regret this.

Merlin came and went from his presence mostly unacknowledged for the following few days. Arthur pretended he did not notice Merlin slipping into his room to leave his meal and take his laundry as well as he pretended not to look at him surreptitiously, searching for any signs of injury or pain. If Merlin was hurt, he was doing a great job of hiding it, for he did not show any kind of discomfort as he walked by. Fortunately, Arthur did not have to dress formally nor use his armor, so he dressed and undressed himself without too much difficulty. They did not exchange any words. Whenever their eyes crossed, Merlin’s face would be unusually blank and he would look away as if nothing happened.

Arthur was actually surprised that Merlin had showed up to work at all. He would not have blamed Merlin if he had chosen to leave Camelot for good after what happened. In fact, part of him wished Merlin had done just that or shouted at him how much of a monster he was. The worst punishment for him was to see Merlin keeping dutifully serving him after everything Arthur had put him through.

He wished he had never asked Merlin to take his mind from Guinevere. Dealing with her treason and banishment was awful, but dealing with that while facing the imminent loss of his servant and friend was proving to be unbearable.

Arthur tried to keep an invulnerable front, but inside he felt dirty and ashamed of himself. He never thought he could experience so much regret. All the anger he had directed towards Guinevere, Lancelot and Merlin was now aimed at himself. The way people seemed to be walking on eggshells around him, sending him pitying looks and lowering their voices whenever he entered a room wasn’t really helping.

How could they understand what he was going through? They had no way of knowing what was going on inside his head and his heart. They had no way of knowing just how much he despised himself at the moment.

By the fourth day following the incidents, Arthur was done waiting for things to happen and decided to take action. He was eager for leaving the suffocating walls of the castle and he could not endure everyone’s eyes on him anymore, like he was about to break any moment, so he started to make plans.

The next morning, Arthur was already dressed when Merlin entered with his breakfast. Arthur looked at him when he heard the door, but turned away next, still unable to face him. “Prepare the horses,” he said, finishing to step into his boots. “We're going on a hunt today. Pack provisions for two days.”

Merlin hesitated for a moment, apparently taken by surprise with the straightforward order. His voice was even when he answered, though. “For how many men should I pack for, Sire?”

“Six. Bring my armor when you come back up,” Arthur said dismissively and did not watch him leave.

Arthur called his Knights and Agravaine separately to present his plans. They were all too eager to indulge Arthur in this trip and did not ask too many questions, although his uncle tried to convince him to take more men for safety. Arthur assured him he would stay close to the patrolled borders and that taking more men would only bring more attention to them.

Leon, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan were already waiting for them at the Square when he and Merlin left the Castle, shortly after lunch. Merlin followed a couple of steps behind Arthur’s horse as they rode through the woods in a rare show of deference and kept quiet, despite the other Knights attempts at chatting with him. Arthur kept moving forward until near the end of the afternoon, when he stopped and turned his horse to look back at his men.

“Now, you know what to do,” he said and turned to his confused manservant. “Merlin, split up the provisions in three parts.”

Merlin looked like he was about to argue, but dismounted in silence and started to go through his bags, handing Elyan and Gwaine equal parts of the cold food and water. Arthur saw Gwaine patting Merlin on the shoulder before joining Percy as they headed west while Elyan and Leon turned back towards east. Arthur continued on his way south and Merlin followed him after a moment's hesitation.

“Are you going to tell me what's going on?” Merlin asked from behind him, sounding slightly annoyed.

Arthur took his time to answer and he could almost feel Merlin's anxiety grow as the moment stretched. “We're almost there, Merlin,” he said nonchalantly.

Despite his unconcerned pretense, he kept looking over his shoulder to make sure Merlin was following him.

It was near sunset when they reached a little stream, but they still had enough daylight to prepare for the night. Arthur dismounted next to the shore and instructed Merlin to set up their camp in a clearing sheltered by a tall and ancient oak.

Arthur picked up his crossbow and left while Merlin tended to the horses. He came back with two rabbits and set to skin them. Meanwhile, Merlin was setting up the tents. It was cloudy and it would probably rain until nightfall, so they had to rush to roast the meat before that.

“Help me out of this,” Arthur said as he finished with the rabbits, looking down on his filthy armory. Somehow, he had managed to bloody the front of his chain mail. “I'll need to wash up.”

“Are you sure it's safe?” Merlin asked, looking around them with uncertainty. “Why did you send the others away? For once I agree with Agravaine, you should've called more men to join us.”

“We're near the south border, Merlin. There are patrols up and down this river.”

“They don't know we're here,” Merlin rebutted. “They could think we're bandits and attack us.”

“They must know by now. Why do you think I sent the others away? You see, I'm not completely stupid, as you seem to believe, Merlin. Besides, they’ll be back soon, no need to be so scared.”

Merlin looked irritated, but did not say a word as he eased the armor off his master. Arthur washed himself by the riverside as best as he could without getting into the cold water while Merlin prepared some vegetables to go with the rabbits roasting by the fire. It was already dark when Arthur sat by a fallen log to eat. He looked at Merlin, who was collecting some dirty utensils, probably intending on taking them to the stream to wash.

“Merlin,” he called and watched Merlin's back stiffen before he turned to look at Arthur expectantly. “Leave it. You can take care of it later. Come here,” he made room for Merlin on the log. “You better eat now before it starts to rain.”

Merlin hardly ever had his meal with Arthur. He was always too busy with the tidying up and washing. Also, Arthur knew he would not spontaneously invite himself to eat with his master, since it would be a little too impertinent even to his standards. Arthur scarcely ever invited his servant to join him either, but he was willing to make an exception this evening.

Merlin looked down at his loaded arms and up at him again before making a decision. He lowered the utensils on the ground and approached Arthur with calculated slowness, as if giving him time to reconsider the call. Arthur took the second stick of roasted rabbit and offered it to Merlin, pretending not to notice his wary looks.

They ate in silence, the only sound was coming from the logs snapping as they burnt.

Arthur broke the silence after finishing his meal. “Why are you still here, Merlin?”

He hadn’t intended to sound crossed, but there was no taking back his intonation now.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Merlin freeze halfway to taking a bite. “What?”

Arthur looked at him trying to keep his feelings at bay. He wasn’t angry at Merlin, he had to keep reminding himself. “If you’re waiting for me to sack you, you’ll be disappointed to hear I do not intent to release you from your duties,” he said, and watched Merlin’s frown deepen as he lowered his stick. Arthur looked away. “But I won’t stop you if you chose to leave Camelot.”

From the corner of his eyes, Arthur saw Merlin look down at his half-eaten rabbit, his shoulders slumped. That’s it, he thought. Now he was going to lose Merlin for good, just like he had lost Guinevere. Still, it was probably nothing short of what he deserved.

The silence stretched between them before Merlin looked up. “Do you want me to leave?”

Arthur breathed out heavily. “I just told you I will not send you away. You think I’d keep you around if I wanted you to leave?”

The problem was it was so natural to lash out on Merlin he had trouble refraining himself.

Merlin seemed to think for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t want to leave either.”

Arthur could not help to feel relieved, although he was yet to fathom Merlin out. “Why aren’t you angry at me?”

Merlin huffed. “I'm always angry at you.”

“Merlin!” Arthur said between gritted teeth, turning his whole body towards his servant. “Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You were never one to overlook my wrongdoings. On the contrary, you’re always the one to point them out and tell me how to redeem myself! What I did to you...”

Arthur looked away, blowing the air out of his lungs. He threw his now empty stick back in the fire before looking back at Merlin. “If I had done it to anyone else, you’d be scolding me until next century; or worse, you’d have already turned your back on me. I could have seriously hurt you! Or do you honestly still think I’m destined to be a great King now?”

Merlin was eyeing him with an attentive, almost curious look. “Do you regret what you did?”

“Terribly,” Arthur said with a huff, his eyes prickling with tears he refused to acknowledge. “I’d give anything to go back in time and undo it, if I could.”

Merlin nodded with his head with surety. “Good.” He looked down again. “I was angry at you, at first, but I’m not anymore. I have my share of regrets as well.”

Arthur frowned, puzzled. What was he talking about?

Merlin was shaking his head, still avoiding his stare. “I feel like I took advantage of you either, the night before. You weren’t in the right state of mind. I shouldn’t have pushed you-”

“What?” Arthur stopped him when he realized what Merlin was saying. “Are you seriously comparing you breaking my stupid rules with what I did to you that morning?”

Merlin was still shaking his head. “You were going through a lot. You were miserable and you had had too much wine-”

“So you think _you_ forced yourself on _me_?” Arthur asked, disbelieving. There was no amount of wine he could have drunk that would prevent him from stopping Merlin, had he honestly intended to. Surely Merlin must have known that!

“I know you don't feel the same way I feel,” Merlin persisted, his voice trembling. “I thought this was my only chance; you wouldn't agree otherwise. You were to get married that day with the woman you love, and then it all went crumbling down… You were so happy, but all of a sudden it was taken from you-”

Arthur could not believe his own ears. “You of all people should know that it does not justify my actions.” Arthur got angrier as he continued. “You should be demanding apologies, and instead you're making excuses for my behavior? I thought I could rely on you to make me feel bad about myself whenever I misbehave.”

“Oh, you're a downright prat for what you did, but you already know that, so why would I waste any time telling you?” Merlin said, wiping the tears from his face angrily. “Besides, you have too much on your shoulders now, even though none of what happened with Gwen is your fault–”

“This is NOT about GWEN!” Arthur snapped again, now furious. “I FORBID you to mention her name again. This is about YOU, Merlin! For once, can you listen to me?”

Merlin's features hardened suddenly and Arthur thought, ‘There! Finally!'

Merlin stood up to look down at him. “Yes, you hurt me; Yes, you humiliated me. Is this what you want to hear? Maybe I’m an idiot for still being here, but that person who did this to me?” Merlin shook his head. “That person isn’t you. And if you’re willing to admit that what you did was wrong, then I’m willing to give you a chance to prove you’re sorry. You made a mistake, but who doesn't at some point of their lives? We both regret it and we can’t go back in time, so the point is what we’re going to do from now on.”

Arthur opened his mouth to say something but he closed it again, his mind running Merlin’s words over and over again. There were too many things bothering him on that reasoning, yet he couldn’t deny there was wisdom in what he was saying.

Merlin’s voice softened as he continued. “I know you’re suffering from all that’s happened. I know you think it’s all your fault. But are you going to let this turn you into a bitter man like your father? Or are you going to try and be a better person?”

Of course Arthur wanted to be a better person. He wanted to make Merlin proud of him again. He wanted to see Merlin smiling and making jokes at his expense. He had thought he had lost it forever, but maybe… Maybe there was still time to save that.

“You don't have to go through this alone,” Merlin continued, his eyes shining, his face showing nothing but understanding.

Suddenly, Arthur remembered him saying something about his feelings and how Arthur didn’t feel the same way. He also remembered Merlin’s confession that fatidical morning, about thinking on Arthur while doing unspeakable things to himself in the privacy of his room. The memory left him with equal parts of shame and arousal. Arthur certainly didn’t feel worthy of Merlin’s devotion at the moment, but maybe he could redeem himself after all.

He turned his back on Merlin and took a couple of deep breaths to calm down. “Merlin, I’ll understand if you don’t want me to lay a finger on you ever again. But if you’re willing…” He looked back at Merlin, hoping that he would see the truth in his eyes without him needing to voice all of it. “I know you can...” He swallowed and started again. “I know it can be pleasurable for you too and I want you to enjoy it. I just don't know how.”

He felt bold saying those words and was glad that he had chosen to say them outside the castle walls.

Merlin seemed distracted as he picked up another log and threw it on the fire, crouching by it to rearrange the logs with a stick. The wind was catching up, but there was still no sign of the rain. Arthur was beginning to wonder if Merlin was ignoring his words when he spoke again.

“I can show you, if you're serious about that.”

Arthur nodded curtly. “I am. And I'd appreciate that.”

They sat there, facing each other from opposite sides of the fire, the flames dancing in Merlin's eyes, making them seem golden.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed then as he looked around them, as if he had just realized where they were. He looked at one of the tents. “Do you want to try it now?”

“What? Here?” Arthur frowned.

“Well, you seem to have it all planned out. You brought me here, ensured that we were alone…”

“No!” Arthur said in outrage. “It’s nothing like that! I only planned for us to talk in private!”

He had figured it would be better for them to have this confrontation away from the oppressive castle, in a neutral territory where Merlin wouldn’t feel cornered by Arthur. Somewhere he could easily escape, in case he wanted to. Somewhere they could talk as if they were equals.

Arthur had a sudden remembrance of the perfumed oil Merlin had used on him. “Besides, wouldn’t you need something to, er, ease the way?”

Merlin shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “I brought my medicine bag. There might be something useful in there.”

Arthur swallowed. He hadn’t anticipated this, but he couldn’t help feeling a tingling of excitement at the prospect of taking Merlin again.

Merlin must have seen it in Arthur’s eyes, for he stood up and clapped his hands clean before heading for his bag next to a log. He rummaged through it until he came up with a flask. He held it out as he waited for Arthur’s reaction, looking expectant.

When Arthur kept looking at his hand in silence, Merlin sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You know what? Forget it.”

“No,” Arthur said, stopping him from throwing the flask back inside the bag. Their eyes met for a moment, sending a jolt of lust through Arthur’s body. “I want to try it.”

Merlin searched his face before nodding for Arthur’s tent. “Shall we?”

Arthur nodded and followed Merlin in. It was dark inside, except for the firelight slipping through the opening. Merlin set to unroll Arthur's sleeping skin on the grass.

“You should make your bed in here too,” Arthur said as he sat on the edge of the makeshift bed to take off his boots, his hands trembling slightly.

This was wrong, he shouldn’t feel so eager. He wasn’t like Merlin. He didn’t have the same inclinations as him. And yet, it felt so alluring, far more enticing than the prospect of tumbling into bed with that maid, the other night.

Merlin looked at him, his face obscured by the shadows. “I thought I'd keep first watch?”

“I'll do it,” Arthur undid the laces of his tunic and removed his belt as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

It didn’t have to mean anything more than carnal release, he told himself. Perhaps it was just that Arthur felt more connected to Merlin than any serving girls. Besides, he should be relieved to know that they were both gaining something out of it, that Merlin wasn’t agreeing to do it just out of obligation and due to a questionable sense of duty.

Merlin finished preparing their beds at opposite sides of the tent and placed the oil flask next to his own. He looked at Arthur expectantly then, his eyes shining as they caught the light from outside. “Do you want me to... erm... get on my hands and knees?”

Arthur felt another surge of lust at those words. “If that's alright with you, yes.”

Merlin shuffled with his feet. “Perhaps you'd like me to stiffen you up with my mouth first?”

Arthur marveled at the way Merlin talked about those things so naturally. He stood up silently, hands on his waist, hoping Merlin understood it, for he did not trust his own voice.

Merlin got on his knees then, taking care of Arthur's breeches. When he took him into his mouth, Arthur was already half-hard and it did not take long for him to fill all the way up. Merlin uncorked the bottle of oil then and slicked Arthur's shaft with it, then reached behind himself with the oiled hand.

“Let me see what you’re doing.” Arthur said, his curiosity picked. He would have to know every detail if he intended to make it good for Merlin.

Merlin seemed reluctant at first, but he ended up turning around on his knees, lowering his own breeches. He reached for the bottle again and slicked his own behind unhurriedly, his fingers sliding over his crack again and again until he slid one finger in with ease.

Arthur's cock twitched at witnessing that. Merlin's ass could not be mistaken for a woman's; it was hairier as were his thighs and Arthur expected to feel repelled by it, but he found it arousing all the same as he kneeled behind Merlin, watching him slip another finger in.

“Aren’t you sore?” Arthur asked, too conscious of the way he had forced entrance the last time with barely any lubrication.

“I'm fine,” Merlin said next, wiping his hand on his breeches before setting his palms flat on the grass. “You might– It's better if you go slowly at first.”

Arthur brought the hem of his tunic up and guided his cock inside Merlin's tight entrance, pushing in as slowly as he could. “Tell me if it hurts.”

Arthur was halfway in when Merlin gasped and he froze in place, waiting for the moment Merlin would buck away from him, but it never came. “Keep going,” Merlin said, his voice small, his breathing shallow.

“Are you sure? I don't want to–”

“I'm good,” Merlin assured him and moved his hips back, stabbing himself on Arthur's cock.

Arthur swallowed hard and plunged all the way in, earning another gasp from Merlin. He started to rock his hips then, slow and steady. Merlin felt hot and tight and not at all filthy as Arthur had first believed. Arthur grasped Merlin's hips as he moved faster, hearing Merlin's breath grow shallower. Arthur could picture anyone he wanted bellow him; he could picture a woman, all wet and ready for him, panting and moaning as he took her from behind; except it felt wrong to do so, somehow.

It hit him then that there might be something missing for Merlin to enjoy it fully. Arthur held still for a while, hearing his own thunderous heartbeats as well as their breathing. “You can touch yourself if you want to,” he said, at last.

Merlin's breath faltered and Arthur heard him swallow before raising one hand from the ground and rubbing it on his own tunic to shake off the grass. It disappeared below his hips next and Arthur watched Merlin's arms move in quick jerks as he resumed bucking into him, hard and fast.

The ground was rough and slightly damp below Arthur’s knees and it would surely stain his breeches. Arthur missed his mattress for a moment and resented not choosing to do that over the soft skin spread out on the floor, but felt glad for it the next moment, when Merlin let out a choked sound and his muscles twitched repeatedly around him.

Arthur thrust into him a couple more times and panted as he emptied himself inside Merlin in strong waves of sweet pleasure. He sat on his heels then, wiping the sweat from his upper lip on his sleeve, watching as Merlin panted in front of him. His ass was glistening with oil and Arthur could see his balls from that angle. It was disconcerting to a certain degree, but also intriguing. He wondered what Merlin's cock looked like, if it was long and slim or short and thick and if he would bounce heavily if Merlin rode him like the fist night, only this time naked.

Arthur shook those musings away as he got on his feet, pulling his breeches back over his still quite hard cock. “I'm taking first watch. You should get some sleep,” he said as he left the tent.

.oOo.

Leon and Elyan were the firsts to arrive, not too long after Arthur sat on the watch. They brought a dead boar on one of the horse's loin and news of the nearest patrol.

“We caught them right on time,” Leon said. “They had just spotted your fire and were about to send some men to investigate it.”

Percival and Gwaine showed up shortly after, and Percy snorted at seeing Leon and Elyan's game. “Was this the best you could do?” the tallest Knight asked, smug. He and Gwaine had been much more successful on their hunting, bringing a deer as well as another boar, which was far bigger than Leon's and Elyan's. The southwest patrol had not seen anything, so there was no damage control from their part.

Arthur allowed them to finish the half-eaten rabbit and vegetables as they argued about their hunting skills and went back to his tent, ignoring the questioning looks from his men at spotting the dirty utensils on the ground and not a sign of Merlin.

Arthur fell asleep the moment his head touched the mat and startled awake not long after that, with Merlin's sudden movement at the makeshift bed beside his.

“Shh,” Arthur slurred. “It's just Leon and the others.” He explained, guessing Merlin had been spooked by the hushed voices and the huffing of too many horses outside.

Arthur blinked a few times to focus on Merlin's contours in the dim light. The boy was still seating, looking undecided whether to get up or lay back down.

“Go back to sleep, Merlin. It's too early.”

There was some rustling then. “What did you tell them?” Merlin whispered.

Arthur closed his eyes again, trying to chase off the sleep. “I'm the King, I don't have to explain myself to anyone.” He opened his eyes again when he heard more rustling. “Merlin, the sun isn't up yet–”

“I still have to go outside,” Merlin said pointedly and Arthur shut his mouth at that.

He had a sudden realization that what he had left inside Merlin the night before must eventually come out. He blushed at that, sighing, the sleep evading him completely. He shifted around his mat, watching the shadows grow lighter as the dawn approached and listening to the murmurs of his men outside. Merlin did not come back in and Arthur thought he could identify his light footsteps as he moved around, doing the chores he had neglected the previous night.

Arthur gave up waiting and got up, urging his men to break camp and get back on their way to Camelot. For some reason he couldn’t grasp, he found himself quite ill-tempered on their ride back.

“So, did you set things straight with Merlin?” Leon asked, riding beside him.

Arthur frowned at him, suddenly worried. “Set what straight?”

Was Leon alluding to what Arthur thought he was alluding? Even if the Knight suspected, how could he know for sure? For all his men knew, Arthur had been out to some peace and quiet. No one would find suspicious if he chose to keep Merlin around, would them? Or were they expecting Arthur to fend for himself?

Leon shrugged. “Guinevere and him were good friends. And you two seemed to have had some sort of fall out lately? But he looks more at ease now,” Leon motioned for where Merlin was riding ahead of them, in between Elyan and Gwaine. Merlin was laughing about something Gwaine had said, possibly some joke at Elyan's expense, by the resigned look on Elyan's face.

As much as Arthur was displeased by the scene, he had to concede that Leon was right; Merlin looked lighter and carefree now, his eyes wrinkling at the edges as he smiled, as opposed to the grim look on his face by the beginning of their journey only yesterday.

“Yeah, I guess we straightened things out,” Arthur admitted, forcing himself to let go of his grudging, for once.

What did he expect? That they would exchange coy smiles in the morning? That Merlin would suck him off with his Knights right outside? That they would snuggle closer like lovers?

Arthur should be pleased that Merlin had agreed to continue just like they used to be, even if they had gone much further than they ever did before. Merlin was still his manservant and Arthur still had to take a wife, someday. And perhaps it was about time he found one soon, if he was craving for post-coital affection.

Alas, he should get back to Camelot at once. The distance from his Kingdom was starting to affect him. He was beginning to forget his obligations to his people.

“Come on, let's get going,” Arthur said, kicking his horse and moving to the head of their party, where he should have been from the beginning.

.Merlin.

Once again, Arthur and Merlin set into some kind of routine after that. Arthur did not mention his rules again nor reminded Merlin of them while they engage in intimate activities. Arthur avoided getting Merlin into his bed, though, preferring to make him bend over something – the mantelpiece, or the table and once by the window – as he took him. He was careful to tell his guards no one were to disturb him before he pulled Merlin's breeches down. He couldn't risk anyone running into them, least of all his uncle. In fact, the last thing he needed was for Agravaine to learn or even suspect of his perverted practices with his manservant after all that happened with Guinevere.

Arthur would use the oil or just spit to make it easier and least painful for Merlin – though his servant never complained whenever Arthur was a bit rougher. Arthur would often wait for Merlin to prepare himself, but now and again he would take charge of it, slicking his fingers and touching between Merlin's arse cheeks, even slipping a finger inside of Merlin's hole once in a while, watching his muscles twitch, asking for more. It was thoroughly filthy and at the same time it was not. At times, Arthur hardened just thinking of burying his cock into Merlin's ass at the most improper moments and he often tented his sheets in the mornings, waiting for his servant to show up and take care of it with his mouth before breakfast.

Sometimes Merlin touched himself to completion while Arthur thrust into him, sometimes he did not and simply adjusted his breeches over himself, finding something to hide his erection as he left to take care of it. Arthur still pointedly ignored that part of his manservant's anatomy and avoided acknowledging it whenever he could. Only occasionally Arthur felt tempted to replace Merlin's hand with his own and stroke him slow and steady, watching him gasp and squirm, desperate for more. Arthur never acted on that urge, though, in desperate need of keeping some boundaries to himself.

Arthur often caught his hands wandering over Merlin's hair, his back, shoulders or around his armpits to find something to grasp beside his servant’s narrow hips; he found himself mouthing obscene words into the short patch of skin on Merlin's neck left uncovered by his ever present scarf, right below his ear, or simply breathing there, revealing in the way his servant's hair stood up in attention. Merlin smelled of sweat and rough fabric and cheap soap, but it was not unpleasant as it was reassuringly familiar.

.oOo.

A few weeks had passed since Guinevere's banishment when they walked in on a druid shrine and Arthur was utterly disturbed by recognizing the place. The memories of that horrible massacre, too many years before, flooded back to him as if they had happened only yesterday and he was haunted by his youthful and reckless actions, something he had long ago mastered to forget.

He could not sleep, remembering the screams, the suffering he had caused in that place. Maybe not all of it by his own hands but he allowed it to happen all the same, so the blood was on his hands anyway. Merlin knew something was off, despite Arthur’s insistent denial, but he could not tell Merlin what was really bothering him. He feared Merlin would hate him for it as much as Arthur hated himself.

When Merlin found him sleeping by his desk, with his face plastered with stew and teased him about it, Arthur was annoyed. He took it out on his servant, punishing him on the training field, making him take blow after blow of his sword with a shield, knowing it would make him sore all over. He allowed his men next, but Elyan took it too seriously, to the point where Arthur had to stop him before he hurt Merlin for real.

“Elyan,” he called, stopping his Knight from striking again at is servant. “I think he's had enough,” Arthur said, and watched Elyan relax. He looked down at Merlin then, sprawled out on the ground, breathing hard as he took off his helmet. “You all right down there, Merlin?” he asked sarcastically, watching Merlin mumble something unintelligible. “Good.”

He walked away with a twisted satisfaction.

Merlin did not learn anything from it, however, as it was only to be expected. He teased Arthur about sleeping on the desk again that night, when his master was staring out the window, lost in thoughts.

“Is this about Gwen?” Merlin asked after Arthur ignored him.

Arthur looked down, then. He hadn't forgotten Guinevere, as much as he willed himself to, but Merlin had no way to suspect what he was truly troubled with. And Arthur could not stop fearing how he would react if he knew.

“We all miss her,” Merlin insisted. “You more than anyone.”

“You can go now,” Arthur said, incapable of dealing with Merlin's selfless sympathy, at the moment.

“Arthur–” Merlin tried to argue, but Arthur cut him off at once.

“Get out,” he snapped over his shoulder and heard Merlin retreating without another word.

That same night, Arthur was attacked by Elyan. He managed to defend himself somehow, even though unarmed, but Elyan escaped before the guards could arrest him.

“I think he's possessed,” Merlin said when coming to his chambers later, probably warned by his men to come assist him.

Arthur looked at him while drawing his sword. “What do you mean 'possessed'?”

“He may have disturbed a spirit at the shrine,” Merlin explained, looking nothing but dead serious about it. “I think that spirit's possessing him.”

Arthur would probably have dismissed it right away if he wasn't already being haunted by that past and desperate to find a reason for his trusted Knight's treason.

He brought that possibility with his uncle later, when Agravaine advised him on executing Elyan. The counselor was adamant that Arthur should punish him anyway and Merlin tried to argue with the King in front of his uncle, so Arthur sent him away again for Merlin's own safety.

“Leave me,” Arthur said, ignoring Merlin's hurt look. “Both of you,” he continued when Agravaine did not seem to understand his order.

Merlin disappeared the following day and he had an injury on his forehead when he showed up the next day, claiming that he had gone in some errand for Gaius and knocked himself out as he tripped in a root. And he had the audacity of chuckling at his own clumsiness.

“Well, after wandering around in the woods all night, knocking yourself out, you must be hungry,” Arthur said in a feigned comprehensive tone.

“I'm starving,” Merlin agreed earnestly.

“Pull up a chair. Tuck in.”

“Oh, thank you so very much, I am actu–” Merlin cut himself short, finally realizing it. “You're joking.”

Arthur simply stared at him and Merlin took his master's plate as he headed off.

Elyan attacked again after Merlin left. He had managed to sneak inside the castle unnoticed and made another attempt on Arthur’s life. When he spoke, his voice didn't sound right. It was as if another person, a child, was talking through him, saying they should avenge their own death.

Fortunately, Merlin barged in just in time to stop Arthur from killing his Knight in the heat of the fight. Unfortunately, Elyan escaped again before Arthur could arrest him.

“I believe the site was once a druid camp.” Gaius said later when Arthur asked his opinion on Elyan's strange behavior, which had started after they had entered the shrine. “There is evidence that the camp was attacked. Your father was relentless in his persecution of the druids. Many died. I believe it is one of those tormented souls that now possesses Elyan.”

“And that's why he seeks his revenge,” Arthur concluded.

“The spirit craves peace. He wishes to find his proper place in the other world, but the unjust nature of his death has denied him that.”

“Is there anything that can be done to change this?”

Arthur would do anything to make things right, to give that spirit peace. He could not stop remembering the child's words, their voice echoing in his head.

Gaius looked worried. “In druid lore, only the atonement of the perpetrator can bring the spirit peace.”

“But Uther's dead,” Merlin said, completely unaware of Arthur's inner turmoil. “He can't atone for what he did.”

“What about Elyan?” Arthur asked and was appalled when Gaius said there was no way to save his Knight. Arthur could not allow someone to pay for his own mistakes, least of all Elyan, who had kept his pledge to his King even after Arthur had banned his sister!

There must have something he could do.

.oOo.

When Merlin finished cleaning his table after dinner that evening, Arthur's mind was already set on what to do.

“It's not your fault,” Merlin said, oblivious to how much his understanding words pained Arthur. “You can't be held responsible for everything your father did.”

“That'll be all, Merlin,” Arthur stated, final. “Thank you.”

Merlin sighed. “You sure you don't want me to stay?”

And there it was, the temptation of forgetfulness. He was grateful for Merlin's attempt at distracting him, but he could not give in to his flesh's cravings tonight. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to indulge in Merlin’s unselfish affection.

“I think I'm going to get an early night,” Arthur said at last.

“Yeah.” Merlin agreed, looking worn out. “Yeah, I'm pretty tired, too, what with having spent the night in the woods.”

“No one said anything about you getting an early night, Merlin. In fact, you can make up for your little escapade by polishing my armor.”

Merlin sent a disbelieving look at him, but complied anyway.

Only, Arthur should have guessed Merlin would find a way of following him to the forest, later, ready to convince him to go back to the castle for safety keeping.

“I have to face him,” Arthur said, resigned. “Feel free to go back to Camelot anytime you like.”

Of course Merlin did not go back. “Thought I might tag along,” his servant said, when confronted. “Don't want you getting lost and scared.”

Maybe it was his right to know, after all. As Arthur walked to his fate with Merlin by his side, he hoped Merlin would understand when he learned about Arthur's transgressions. He hoped Merlin would forgive him.

And so Merlin watched while Arthur kneeled on the ground and bared his soul to the spirit, confessing his regrets and putting himself on it's mercy. He was ashamed and scared and sorrowful, but not for crying so openly for the first time. He never felt so vulnerable, but he also felt free once the words were out of him. He could not take them back now neither he wanted to.

Arthur was so sure of his own doom that he was astonished when the spirit pulled him to his feet, hugged him and forgave him. He watched in awe as the spirit left Elyan and the Knight stumbled as he came back to himself, looking confused.

.oOo.

Merlin helped him carry Elyan back to Camelot and volunteered to assist Gaius with his treatment. When their eyes met, Merlin was nothing but proud and Arthur was thoroughly relieved.

Merlin did not wake him up that morning when bringing his breakfast, but Arthur didn't resent that. He knew his servant to be trying to spare him and was grateful for it. At least until Merlin decided his master was recovered enough to be teased about what happened.

“I don't think I've ever seen you cry before.” Merlin said as he hanged Arthur's clean clothes back into the wardrobe. “Not like that. You had tears running down your cheeks. It's nice to see this new sensitive, emotional side to you. It suits you.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said as he raised his eyes from the book he was trying to read.

Merlin gasped in mocked shock. “I really thought you'd change.”

Arthur closed the book. “Then you're as stupid as you're ugly,” he said as he rounded his desk and stepped past Merlin, glaring.

“So, there's no chance that we could have a hug?” he heard Merlin say at his back.

Arthur turned back at once, finding Merlin standing there with a smirk on his face and his arms wide open. Arthur walked back to Merlin, picking up the pace as Merlin tried to run away until Arthur smashed him into the wall with his own body.

“Ahh!” Merlin let out as Arthur grabbed his arms and twisted them back.

“A hug, you were saying?” Arthur said into his ear, keeping Merlin's wrists trapped with one hand as he circled his waist with his free arm and pushed Merlin’s hips back from the wall, so that he could stroke Merlin’s groin through the fabric of his breaches.

“Uh,” Merlin mumbled, his face half-crushed between Arthur and the wall as the later breathed over the back of his neck. “Yes,” he said when Arthur pressed his still clad hardening cock between his manservant’s arse cheeks. “This is fine, though.”

“Is it, now? You settle for so little, already.” Arthur acted on impulse as he pulled Merlin’s breeches down and reached for Merlin's cock for the first time, squeezing it nearly painfully.

“Ahh!” Merlin shouted again, his breath catching.

Merlin’s cock was firm in Arthur's grasp, but it became harder still as Arthur kept it enclosed in his fingers, his wrist brushing lightly on his servant’s pubic hair. Arthur let go of Merlin's wrists to pull his own breeches down so as to better fit his erection between Merlin's cheeks, pushing him further ahead, and therefore trapping his own hand between the wall and Merlin's hips. When he rubbed himself on Merlin, the movement caused Merlin's cock to slide over his closed palm roughly and earned a grunt from the boy.

Merlin had his hands on the wall now, but he wasn't trying to push away. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open as he puffed. Arthur rubbed into him again, hearing Merlin's wanton cry in response.

It was too dry and too much teasing to be good, but Arthur continued anyway, spitting down on his own cock before grinding down again and again.

Merlin gasped and moaned, his foreskin helping ease the movement as his hips bucked with Arthur's. “Arthur, I'm close,” he huffed, not long after. “I'm... I'm... _Damn_.”

He pulsed inside Arthur's grasp and suddenly the King's hand was covered in wetness. Arthur should probably feel grossed out by it, but he panted as he backed off a little, rubbing Merlin's seed over himself and on Merlin before pushing into him with little finesse. Merlin gasped, but did not flinch away, his muscles still twitching from his climaxing.

Arthur rested his forehead on Merlin's shoulder blades when he was all in. He intended to keep still for a moment, but his hips moved on their own accord, slowly at first, but soon he was banging Merlin's hip bones into the wall. It took him no time and he was pouring himself into Merlin's ass, panting over his neck, nose buried into his nape.

Arthur pulled away, suddenly aware of the harshness of his own actions as he stumbled back. “Have I hurt you?”

Merlin stood there, as if bracing himself on the wall, his eyes still closed tight. “I...” he swallowed, moving slowly as he pushed his breeches back up before turning around and Arthur felt disappointed, somehow, looking down on his manservant's stained clothes. “I probably should not say it, because... it'll surely go to your head, but...” he looked at Arthur from under his eyelashes, smirking. “It was great. The best so far, I daresay.”

“Of course,” Arthur scoffed. He should have guesses Merlin would enjoy being punished like that. Arthur looked down at the mess over the dark-blond hair on his groin. He pulled his own breeches with the hand that was not filthy with Merlin's drying semen. “It was completely unintentional, though. I was planning on teaching you a lesson, if it wasn't clear before. I guess I can't help being good at it, after all.”

It was Merlin's turn to scoff then. “Of course.” He stepped up to help his master with the laces.

Arthur frowned at his own dirtied hand, the understanding of what he had done finally catching over him. He wrinkled his nose. “I might be in need of a bath.”

Merlin's amusement died out. “Right. It'll be but a moment, Sire,” he said as he left.

Arthur moved to wash his hands over the water basin, still feeling quite shocked.

.Merlin.


	5. Five

During the following months, Arthur had more important things to worry about than his own distorted relationship with his manservant, what with the dispute for the lands of Gedref with the Kingdom of Nemeth. It soon moved from an upcoming violent battle to a confidential negotiation, when King Rodor expressed his intention to avoid an open war, as was Arthur's intention as well.

Arthur knew where it would probably head to even before Rodor made the proposition. He knew of the King of Nemeth's beloved daughter, his only family left, whom also happened to be of marriage age. Arthur also knew himself to be a good catch, what with his reputation and the ones of his army and his Kingdom. His fame as a heartbroken bachelor had earned a lot of proposals from royals and nobles, involving women of every age and history – some of them widows, granted to be very experienced and fertile.

Arthur felt utterly disgusted about the whole business, feeling like he was dealing with a cattle trade, most of the time, yet he was not ingenuous. That was the way royal marriages were arranged and he should get used to the idea, as his father had tried to teach him years ago; if he wasn't betrothed to Princess Mithian, he would soon be to some other faceless princess or queen. The best he could do was take as much advantage of the deal as he could. A peaceful arrangement of the lands of Gedref was sure to be worth it.

He couldn't say a word about it until the deal was closed and as the confidential correspondence came and left, he was stuck with his own unsettling thoughts. What could possibly await him if it came to that? How would Princess Mithian show up to be? Would she be kind? Intelligent? Easy on the eyes? Arthur had found all those qualities in a woman once and, even though she had betrayed him in the end, somehow Arthur found it hard to believe he could be that lucky again.

Sometimes he wondered if he could keep Merlin as his bed warmer, even after married. Naturally, he would have to perform his duties as a husbands and make sure his lineage was to be continued, but what if he did not feel attracted to his wife? What if it showed up to be nothing more than another obligation on his shoulders, one he could not bring himself to enjoy, like so many others? Surely, Merlin wouldn't watch him suffer though a dull marriage without making himself available, would he?

Be that as it may, he could not ask Merlin right now; all he could do was enjoy his manservant's company while he was still a single man.

Things were so uncomplicated with Merlin. He never once stopped Arthur's advances nor allowed their continuous arguing to interfere with their intimate interactions; he was always responsive to Arthur's seduction and eager to please him in whatever way Arthur asked of him; and yet he managed all that while being highly insubordinate and with a witty retort at the tip of his tongue.

Arthur also indulged himself with being less strict with his self-imposed limits. He would often remove Merlin's offending scarf, after realizing how sensitive his servant was in that area; he would grab Merlin's hair with intent, pulling his head back as he mouthed at his neck; he would also replace Merlin's hand with his own and stroke Merlin's cock as he thrust inside him until his servant shot his release on the nearest surface.

One afternoon, Arthur was at the Armory with his Knights after practice, putting their weapons away and picking on Gwaine for being too quiet, if a little bit green-faced.

“Must be the pork,” Gwaine said, holding his stomach. “It was probably poorly cooked.”

“Oh, sure,” said Elyan. “So it had nothing to do with the fact that you nearly ate the whole pork by yourself?”

“I'm used to eating twice that amount,” Gwaine said, affronted. “I'm telling you, that Cook's done something to my meat. She's not above poisoning me.”

“And who could blame her, since you're always stealing from her kitchens,” Leon said, looking amused.

“As if I'm the only one!” Gwaine poked Percival with the handle of his sword. “Aren't you going to defend me?”

“I'm not queasy, am I?” Percival said, seeming unbothered by Gwaine's insistent prodding. “The Cook clearly has no grudge against me.”

“Oh, Gwaine's only pretending to be sick,” Arthur stepped in. “Because he can't face defeat.”

Gwaine pointed his sword at Arthur next. “I'd beat you in no time if I were in my full capabilities.” He pulled a face and lowered his sword.

“You're too slow for me, Gwaine, admit it.”

“I'll show you slow when I'm recovered, You Majesty. And it's Sir Gwaine to you.”

“Oh, come on, save yourself the embarrassment,” Arthur teased. “You're not faster than me. In fact, no one here is.”

They were all protesting at the same time when Merlin entered the room with one of Gaius's remedies in hand. “Here, Gwaine,” he said as he handed the vial over. “Gaius said you'll feel better in no time.”

“Thanks, Merlin, you're a true friend, unlike others.”

“What have I missed?” Merlin said, approaching Arthur to remove his guard-braces. “Why were you ladies so worked up?”

“His Majesty was just humbly telling us he's the faster of us all,” Elyan offered.

“Oh, he's certainly very fast,” Merlin said right away. “While you're all working on the preliminaries, he' probably already finished.”

They all went quiet after that and Arthur turned to face Merlin, incredulous. Merlin looked down with a sassy half-smile.

“Why, Merlin, did you just made a joke about Arthur's stamina?” Gwaine asked, sounding all too proud.

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed, outraged and moved to cuff his manservant around the head, but Merlin ducked away quickly. They all laughed after that and Arthur felt his cheeks heating up. He grabbed the nearest piece of armor he could get his hands on and tossed it at Merlin. “You impertinent toad of a servant!”

Elyan was doubled over himself with laughter. “Oh, Merlin,” he said as he struggled to breath. “Something tells me you're going to pay for this later.”

Percival was shaking his head. “Merlin probably won't be able to sit tomorrow.”

“Oh, now you're just being mean,” Leon disapproved, even though he had a half-smile on his face.

Arthur was still stunned, looking from one to the other. “I should hang all of you for that!”

They laughed even harder and Arthur stomped out of the room, incapable of standing any more of being made a fool in front of his men.

“MERLIN!” he shouted from half-across the hallway and gritted his teeth when more laugh followed.

Arthur instructed his guards not to let anyone beside his manservant enter his chambers on pain of death. He had managed to take off his chain mail and was pacing his room on his sweaty undergarments when Merlin finally showed up, assessing the room carefully before shutting the door behind him.

“You wanted to see me, You Majesty?” Merlin had the nerve to ask, feigning innocence.

“You!” Arthur accused, pointing a finger at Merlin as he advanced on him, watching him flinch even before Arthur grabbed him by the front of his tunic, pushing his back against the wall. “What have you and your big mouth told them!”

“Nothing!” Merlin said at once, looking really startled this time. “Arthur, they're only teasing you!”

“Why would they tease me about that?”

“Because... That's what they do!” Merlin said as if it were obvious. “That's what we all do! We tease each other! 'Cause we're... friends!”

Arthur stared into Merlin's eyes for a moment, trying to establish if he was hiding something. He was not satisfied yet, so he twisted Merlin's tunic in his fists, bringing him closer. “You think they don't know, then? You think they don't suspect?”

Merlin held his stare for a while, raising his hands to hold Arthur's wrists, though he did not try to push him away. “I cannot say what's on their minds. I don't know if they suspect. All I know is that if you keep acting like this every time they tease you, they will soon enough.”

Arthur worked his jaw and puffed as he straightened his spine, relaxing his grip on Merlin's clothes. He knew Merlin was probably right, but he was still quite mad at what he had implied. “So you think I'm too fast, do you? Or were you joking about that too?”

Arthur watched as Merlin's Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, his eyes widening again. “Oh. Well...”

“Well?” Arthur leaned into him again until their noses nearly bumped. He had to look at one eye at a time as he twisted his servant's clothes again.

“You– You are very... efficient and straightforward in all you do, Sire. You don't do things by halves and you certainly don't waste any time,” Merlin displayed a quick uncertain smile.

Arthur looked down on Merlin's plush lips. “However?”

“However...” Merlin's voice was low and rough. “It wouldn't be too bad if you made it last a bit longer, once in awhile.”

Arthur brought his lips to Merlin's ear. “You think I couldn't make it last if I wanted to?”

Merlin shook his head in a swift, short motion. “I never said that!”

“Yet you implied it.”

Merlin didn't try to deny it.

Arthur snorted, pressing his whole body into Merlin’s. He buried his nose at the curve of Merlin's neck and let go of his tunic to untie his scarf. “I guess I'll have to prove it to you, then.”

“You don’t have to prove me anything, My Lord.”

“Oh, but I want to, Merlin. I want to prove how wrong you are.”

Merlin's breath faltered when Arthur mouthed at the hot skin right below his ear. He could feel Merlin's hard length against his hip as he ground down on him. Arthur should turn Merlin around now; he should have done it already, for their bodies were not made to fit together like this. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do it as he felt Merlin's chest expand and compress against his own, his breath hot on Arthur's ear.

Arthur continued to murmur over Merlin's skin as he untied his manservant’s breeches. “You think you know me too well, right? You think I can't surprise you.”

Arthur leaned back just enough to push Merlin's breeches down. He acted on impulse when he raised the hem of Merlin's tunic to stare down at the boy's manhood. Arthur had had glimpses of Merlin's cock already, but he had never looked at it so openly. It stood right under the curly black hairs of his groin, dark and heavy with blood, long and lean, though a bit shorter than Arthur's.

Arthur blinked when he felt Merlin's hands on his laces and held his wrists, stopping him. “Hands on your back.”

“Arthur, please,” Merlin whimpered, looking a bit feverish with his hooded eyes and flushed cheekbones.

“Do as I say.”

Merlin swallowed as he brought his hands back between his body and the wall. He kept his eyes on Arthur's when his master reached to unbuckle his manservant's waist belt, tossing it on the floor next to his scarf. Arthur looked down his own arms as he slid his hands under Merlin's tunic, now completely loose, tenting over his erection. Arthur explored Merlin's narrow hipbones and waist, circling his thumbs over the soft skin there. He continued sliding his hands up, over his ribcage and chest, his thumbs brushing over the hard nubs of Merlin's nipples and exposing a patch of skin over the boy's stomach as the cloth went up.

“Arthur,” Merlin gasped, closing his eyes, his hips arching away from the wall causing the tip of his cock to brush over Arthur's breeches, leaving a stain there.

“Shhh!” Arthur pointed at the closed door and Merlin looked at it, frowning. The guards were not far on the hallway, they should probably move to the back of the room.

Instead, Arthur finished to slide Merlin's tunic over his chest and forced him to raise his arms. Merlin let out a surprised huff as he complied, looking at him with round eyes when Arthur threw the cloth away.

Arthur's breathing was heavy when he looked down on the naked man – for he could not call him a boy anymore – in front of him. Merlin had grown into his own body. He had dark chest hair and a trail down his navel; he showed light but outlined muscles over his pecs and arms; he also had a mop of dark, thick hair under each armpit. His erection twitched under Arthur's intent gaze.

Arthur remembered Guinevere’s words, not too long ago, about Merlin being handsome. He had never really thought of Merlin like that before, but he could see what she had meant then. There was some beauty on the male form displayed on Merlin's body, something thrilling and powerful and completely different from women’s beauty, but it was right there for Arthur to see. He wondered if Merlin found him attractive too, if he longed to touch Arthur's skin and bury his nails on his flesh. Sometimes he thought he saw longing on Merlin's eyes, he wondered if he felt like Arthur felt now, as if it was so close and yet out of his reach.

Arthur touched Merlin's skin just to prove to himself that he could. He run his hands up Merlin's arms and down his chest, watching him tremble with it. “Take of your boots and breeches,” he commanded, stepping back to give him room to finish undress.

Merlin looked at the door again like a startled stoat. “You sure?”

“No one's bothering us now, Merlin. Unless they have a death wish.” Arthur walked back to the bed and sat by it to take off his boots as Merlin did the same. He waited until his servant peeled the last shred of cloth and motioned for his bed. “Get on the bed.”

Merlin gasped then, nearly tripping over his own feet as he walked to him. He looked about to ask something, but Arthur rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut it, Merlin. Just do as I say before I change my mind.”

Merlin swallowed and pulled the bed covers hastily before setting one knee on the mattress. “How– How do you want me to–”

“On your knees, hands on the headboard.”

As Merlin complied, Arthur grabbed the bottle of oil and climbed up the mattress, kneeling behind Merlin. He coated his fingers with the sleek liquid and rubbed them down Merlin's crack, watching as he worked him wet and relaxed enough. He felt reckless doing it with the sun still up; the late afternoon light lent a golden shade to his manservant’s pale skin and it glistened with the oil. Merlin merely panted, his breath catching at every stroke of Arthur's finger.

“Easy, Merlin,” Arthur said, leaning over to mouth at the tense muscles of Merlin's shoulders.

Merlin exhaled, his head hanging between his shoulders as he relaxed. Arthur lowered his own breeches, freeing his achingly hard cock and pouring some oil over it too, stroking himself slowly to spread it. He guided his erection into Merlin, pushing in slowly until he was all in. He circled Merlin's waist then and slid his slick hand over Merlin's erection smoothly.

“Ah,” Merlin groaned and Arthur squeezed him tight, keeping his hips very still.

“Come now, we don't want it to be over so soon, do we?”

Merlin chuckled. “You're going to make me pay for it, aren't you?”

“Why, Merlin, I thought this was what you wanted.”

“Oh, no, far be it from me to complain. This is– ” Merlin swallowed. “This is good.”

Arthur could not say he had anything to complain as well. He kept a slow and steady pace as he thrust his hips, neglecting Merlin's cock at first, and stopping him from touching himself. He allowed his calloused hands to wander the expanse of skin in front of him, revealing in the way Merlin responded to his every touch. Why hadn't he undressed Merlin before? Why hadn't he taken him to bed? He could not think why, his reasons sounded like poor excuses now.

Arthur brought himself to the edge and back now and again and watched Merlin struggle not to say anything until he finally snapped. “For God's sake, Arthur, this is torture! End this now or I'll do it myself!”

It was Arthur’s turn to chuckle. “All right, you're the one who'll have to change the sheets later.”

Merlin grunted as Arthur shifted his knees – they were beginning to protest the prolonged effort – bringing his thighs closer to Merlin's and forcing his upper back down, leaning his own weight on Merlin's shoulders as he bucked his hips, hard and fast.

“Do it,” Arthur said, his own voice rough with need. “Come on.”

Merlin let go of the headboard to wrap his fingers around his cock and jerked it furiously, shouting again and again as he finished. Arthur felt the unstoppable contraction of his groin muscles then and poured his seed into Merlin in strong, powerful pulses. He bucked his hips a few more times, earning a whine from Merlin at every drag before finally pulling out, feeling raw and sated like never before.

He crashed onto the mattress next, panting and massaging his numb knees. He was glad he had chosen the bed, this time. He noticed Merlin moving beside him and turned to find him there, sprawled over his bed, face smashed on the pillow as he too struggled to catch his breath.

“I'll be gone in a moment,” Merlin said, as if sensing Arthur's eyes on him, even though he had his own closed.

“Make sure that you are,” Arthur said and drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, the sun had just set. He sat on the bed a little disoriented and found that Merlin had folded the dirty side of the sheet and was fully dressed, already preparing his bath.

“Oh, I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to leave some of the cold water to wake you up,” Merlin said cheerfully as soon as he noticed Arthur was awake. “Agravaine's asked of you when I went out to get the water. He said something about you giving a speech at this evening's feast. He also claimed he dropped by to remind you earlier, but he was nearly spiked with a spear. Oh, and I might have let it slip that you were taking a – most deserved, if you will – royal nap.”

Arthur groaned as he flopped back to bed. “Shut up, Merlin.”

.Merlin.

As negotiations with Nemeth continued, Arthur became tenser and tenser. He was determined to go through with it, yet he knew it would not be easy. He kept silent under the excuse of confidentiality, but he was perfectly aware that he was merely postponing the inevitable confront.

When the deal was finally closed and the time came that Arthur announced to his court and his men the upcoming royal betrothal, Arthur could feel Merlin's hurt from across the room, so he avoided looking at him entirely. Still, he could not escape his servant forever, and Merlin proved that by confronting him right after he left the Council Chamber.

“How come I didn't know any of this?” Merlin asked as if Arthur had failed to fulfill his obligation to account for his every strategic decision to his manservant. “How come you didn't say anything?”

Arthur continued walking, not bothering to look back. “That's what 'confidential' means, Merlin. Keeping it from blabbermouths like you.”

“You can't do this.”

“No, you're right, I can't.” Arthur said, then pretended to reconsider it as he looked back at Merlin. “Oh, wait a second... I'm the King, so I can.” He turned his back on Merlin again and was about to walk away when Merlin spoke once more.

“Surely it's a little bit–”

“A bit what?” Arthur interrupted him, spinning around to glare at Merlin, defying him to say another word.

Merlin sighed and looked down before staring at him again. “Soon?”

“What do you mean?” Arthur feigned ignorance.

“Erm, well–”

“You mean Guinevere.” Arthur cut him off again, sharply. “I told you not to mention her name again.”

“Which is why I didn't.” Merlin defended himself right away.

Arthur held Merlin's stare for a moment, trying to make him understand he was standing on thin ice. “How many times do I have to tell you? Guinevere made her choice. She betrayed me. Now she must take the consequences.”

“But–”

“But what?”

“Nothing.” Merlin looked angry at him, which he had absolutely no right to be.

“That's right. Nothing.” Arthur turned to leave, glad to put an end to that disturbing conversation.

Merlin had never taken his warnings seriously, though. “Except that you still love her,” he said defiantly.

Arthur stopped at those words. He paused for a moment before turning around and marching back at Merlin. He kept their eyes leveled and his voice calm, despite the rush of blood in his ears. “You ever say anything like that again and I swear you'll join her in exile forever.”

They glared at each other in a battle of will until Arthur turned away again. This time Merlin did not dare say a thing and Arthur was glad for it. He did not want to be forced to uphold his threat, but he couldn't allow Merlin to challenge him like that. He could not show the littlest sign of weakness or Merlin would most certainly use it against him, breaking Arthur's carefully constructed resolve, convincing him to call the wedding off and ruining months of serious negotiation, perhaps even causing a war.

.oOo.

The mood was a little shaken between them after that, but Arthur had too much on his plate to try and make up with his grudging manservant. He prepared for Princess Mithian's visit instead, when they were to get to know each other and make it official.

Arthur had to admit he was apprehensive when her party approached, but he was pleasantly stunned at first spotting his future bride. He had never seen such beauty in his life, or maybe it was the shock of realizing she was not ugly nor plain – which had been his mind's best case scenarios so far – but downright breathtaking.

“Princess Mithian, you are most welcome,” he said after recovering from the shock.

When she spoke, her voice was like silk. “Thank you, Your Highness. I have heard much about you, and you are more handsome in person than reports suggested.”

Arthur had never been shy, yet he found himself at a loss before her compliment, making a fool of himself in front of the Princess.

Unfortunately, it was not the last time he embarrassed himself in her presence. Arthur was so amazed by Mithian's looks, so attracted to her, he kept forgetting himself in her laughter and her perfect manners. At the welcoming feast, he could tell Merlin wasn't pleased with his instant closeness with the Princess and he did not seem to bother to disguise his jealousy, for he kept showing up next to him and asking if Arthur wanted more soup.

“Merlin, you've asked me that three times now,” Arthur tried to spare himself the second-hand embarrassment. “Will you just–” he motioned for Merlin to walk away and watched his servant's lips tighten as he complied.

He felt Mithian's delicate hand on his arm. “You were saying?”

Arthur was about to pick up where he had left before the interruption when his hand twitched and he found himself with soup all over his chain mail. Instead of making fun of his sudden lack of coordination, Mithian had grabbed her napkin and proceeded to wipe the King's stained garments. Arthur's body responded immediately as well as his mind, as he pictured himself leaning forward and kissing her beautiful red lips and swiping her in his arms and taking her to his bed–

Once he had thought of it, he could not stop his mind from wandering any longer. The dinner was a blur after that, he couldn't focus on what she was saying any more than on her lips and her angelic face, and the paleness of her chest and how his hands would probably leave marks on her fair skin. When he escorted her to her chambers, he knew he was probably staring and hesitating too much, but he was dying to invite himself to join her in her room – maybe just kiss her and press her into the wall and sneak one hand under her dress...

It was hard to keep a conversation while his mind insisted on following that line of thought, so it was only to be expected that he embarrassed himself again, talking nonsense until she finally took pity on him and turned into her chambers. Without inviting him in, of course.

Arthur adjusted his erection on his breeches as he walked back to his own room, thinking perhaps he could learn to love her, after all. He was beginning to hope again, therefore he was perfectly high-spirited when he got back to his chambers and found Merlin preparing his bed with a sour expression.

“Iit was a great feast, don't you think?” Arthur asked as he approached Merlin, already unclasping his ceremonial cape.

Merlin merely grunted in response before circling him and helping him take off his formal attire.

“And tomorrow's going to be a great day,” Arthur continued, unfazed. “Mithian has agreed to have a picnic with me in the morning. I trust you'll arrange the finest from our kitchens for her. Oh, and can you believe she said she loves hunting?”

“I honestly can't believe it, Sire,” Merlin finally said, keeping his eyes down, focused on his task. “I can't fathom how someone would _love_ killing animals for fun.”

“I didn't expect you to understand. It takes good taste to like such a fine sport,” he teased, but Merlin did not take the bait, leaving his master to take off his undergarments as he resumed preparing the bed. Arthur shook his head, amused. “Come on, Merlin, now you'll tell me you honestly didn't like Princess Mithian? I can say for sure _everyone_ liked her. Even Agravaine didn't have any objection on the matter–”

“I have nothing against her,” Merlin cut him off in a tone that indicated the complete opposite.

“Why are you acting like you'd rather see me married to my mare than her, then?”

Merlin did not laugh nor glare at him, so Arthur sighed, looking down at his own tenting breeches, then scrunching his nose. He had been hard most of the night, surely Merlin had noticed it while undressing him, yet he hadn't acknowledged it. Deep down Arthur knew he should probably give Merlin some space, especially now that he was about to be betrothed again, but he never listened to his conscience when it came to Merlin, never mind after drinking so much wine.

“You sure you aren't forgetting something?” Arthur asked playfully, placing his hands on his waist and taking a step closer to where Merlin was fluffing his pillows.

“Pretty sure.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Merlin, come on, don't you think you've sulked enough?”

“Don't know what you're talking about,” Merlin insisted on his feigned ignorance.

Arthur took another step, pressing his erection against his servant's behind, watching him freeze. “Do I have to be more specific?” he said next to Merlin's ear.

Merlin took a quick step to the side and slipped away from Arthur's reach, circling the bed to work on the other pillow. “Why don't you go ask Princess Mithian to help you with that?” He asked coldly.

Arthur pressed his lips together, narrowing his eyes. After some calculation, he jumped over the mattress and took Merlin by surprise by turning him around and pressing him into the nearest piece of furniture, their noses nearly brushing together. “You know I can't ask her that, Merlin. For now.”

Merlin swallowed hard and Arthur smirked to himself.

“You can't ask this of me either,” Merlin said in a husky voice. “She'll soon be my Queen.”

“And I'll still be your King.” Arthur murmured back. “I can ask whatever I want from you.”

“You can. But you won't.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Merlin straightened his spine, his face stern. “'Cause it's not the first time you commit yourself to someone else. And you didn't touch me then. You said it wouldn't be right. And if you're not willing to be faithful this time, perhaps you should reconsider your decision altogether.”

Arthur ground his teeth as he gripped Merlin's arms tighter, making Merlin flinch at every word. “You think you know me too well, don't you? You think you know exactly what goes on my mind; in my heart, even. But I've changed, Merlin. I've learned a few lessons since then, and I don't see the point in denying myself when everybody else indulges themselves regardless of my feelings, you understand?”

Merlin's nostrils flared, but he nodded. “Yes, My Lord.”

“So I say you should keep your thoughts to yourself and get on this bed with me now or leave. What do _you_ say?”

Merlin seemed about to argue, but closed his mouth again. He made no move to get away from Arthur’s grasp, instead his eyes lowered to Arthur’s lips.

Arthur smirked, rejoicing in the way Merlin swallowed. “I guess you’re staying then.”

Arthur pulled the curtains on one side of his bed to prevent any possible intruders to see them and proceeded to undress himself, telling Merlin to do the same. He grabbed Merlin's elbow and pushed him onto the mattress, on his back. He grabbed the oil and kneeled on the bed after him, forcing Merlin's legs apart.

Merlin's breathing was shallow and his cock was lying heavily over his stomach, surrounded by a nest of black curls. He could not be more different from Mithian, when Arthur pictured her in his bed just like this, yet Arthur felt aroused all the same, if not more, for he doubted the Princess would look back at him as submissively as his servant did, his eyes moving over every inch of Arthur's chest as if fearing he would be deprived of this sight too soon. He was Arthur's to command and it made him feel powerful and safe at the same time.

Arthur leaned over Merlin's body, supporting himself on one stretched arm and reached for Merlin's hand with the other, bringing his palm over his own chest. “You've been wanting to touch me like this, Merlin?” he asked somewhat cruelly and watched Merlin swallow before nodding, his hand frozen in place.

Arthur let go of Merlin's hand and reached for the oil, uncorking it with his teeth and pouring some over himself while Merlin's hands moved tentatively around his chest, reverently exploring his skin. Merlin's lips parted and his eyes followed the movement of his hands, his breath catching.

Merlin's eyes shone with undivided adoration and he licked his lips to moisten them. “You're so gorgeous. So strong. I understand how Mithian or any other woman must feel around you.” He looked up, into Arthur's eyes. “You could have anyone you wanted to.”

Arthur stroked his own cock to spread the oil around it, then slipped his slick hand between Merlin's arse cheeks. “Right now, I want you.”

Merlin's hand slid up to Arthur's shoulder and his neck, his fingers caressing the hair on his nape. “I'm yours. For as long as you'll have me.”

Arthur had intended to flip Merlin around to take him, but he found that he wanted to look Merlin in the eyes this time, watch him as he gasped and squirmed and asked for more. He brought his knees closer to Merlin's hips and lifted him up from the bed, adjusting the angle. He plunged in then, feeling the initial resistance of Merlin's inner muscles and watching his breath catch, his fingers curling and his eyes closing for a moment as Arthur continued to slide further in, slow and firm. Merlin hummed when Arthur was all in and opened his eyes again. Arthur watched Merlin's lips move like he was saying a silent prayer and he wanted to lean over him and press his own lips over Merlin's, soft and slowly or hard and bruising; he wanted it so much.

He wondered if Merlin's lips would feel any different from those of a girl. They looked smooth and inviting as Arthur continued to stare; Merlin licked them and they glistened anew with saliva.

Arthur grunted and started to move his hips, his eyes locked on Merlin's. He felt Merlin's hand heavy on his neck, as if trying to pull him in, but he resisted, placing both his palms firmly on the mattress, arms completely stretched out, and rocked into Merlin with vigorous jerks of his hips, slamming their skin together.

“Rub yourself,” Arthur said in a huff. After being so hard for so long, he knew he wouldn't last long, but he wanted to see Merlin's face as he climaxed.

Merlin searched the mattress for the discarded bottle of oil and poured some into his own hand; he held Arthur's right bicep firmly as he reached for his own cock with his greased hand, bringing himself off not much later. Arthur watched Merlin's eyes become glassy as he sobbed, shooting his seed over his own hand and chest while his muscles convulsed. Arthur reached his own completion then, his hips stilling for a moment before moving again, prolonging the pleasure until it nearly became agony.

He flopped onto the bed then, sated and exhausted, closing his eyes as his heartbeats thrummed loudly in his own ears. He thought he felt a light caress on the top of his head at some point, but when he woke up in the middle of the night, he was alone in the darkened room, the bed curtains were pulled back up and his nakedness was hidden below the bed covers.

He fell back to sleep with a mournful sigh.

.oOo.

Arthur enjoyed teasing Merlin the next day over the picnic, though he paid his price with a mortifying spurt of stomach gas. He noticed Merlin's annoyed looks as he shared a surprisingly pleasing morning with his soon to be fiancé. She seemed too good to be true, if he was honest to himself, but Arthur was prepared to face whatever flaws she came to reveal in the future and he was confident that they could learn to be good friends, if not more. It definitely was not the worst thing that could happen to him.

He wondered if she would understand if she knew what he shared with Merlin. Should he tell her before they got married? Wouldn't it be wiser to risk her backing out now than finding out latter?

At some point, Arthur looked away from Merlin's annoyed face to find Mithian assessing him intently, as if he was a puzzle she was starting to learn how to solve and he cleared his throat, offering her some strawberries to disguise his own discomfort.

.oOo.

The hunting was going pretty fine, apart from Arthur's failure to shoot the deer and Mithian's teasing about his aim. He had to admit that he was having fun, though. At least until he spotted a ring on the ground.

Arthur was confused at first; he could not believe his eyes, yet he would recognize that ring by touch alone, if his eyes failed him. As he rolled Guinevere's engagement ring around his fingers, his feelings rushed back to him like blood flooding back on a numb limb. It was intense and painful. He felt completely in love and betrayed all over again.

He looked up and found Merlin's eyes and he knew for certain that Merlin had recognized it too, for his face was conflicted. Merlin had been right all along, only Arthur did not want to hear him. Arthur had been willing to sacrifice so much for Guinevere. His ancestors tradition, his father's beliefs, his court's judgment, his uncle's approval, his own pleasure with Merlin... If he weren't willing to do this with Mithian, perhaps he shouldn't marry her, after all. He already knew how it felt to love a woman and the instant attraction he had felt towards Mithian paled in comparison.

He called the sport off and ignored Mithian's attempts to talk to him all through the way back to the castle.

.Merlin.

When Merlin showed up the next day, defying Arthur’s direct orders and accusing his uncle of treason, Arthur was in no mood to deal with his manservant's audacity.

“One more word out of you and I swear to God I will send you into exile!” Arthur threatened again when Merlin's allegations showed up to be untrue.

Perhaps Arthur was being too soft on Merlin, encouraging such behaviors, although deep down he knew Merlin's only fault was being overzealous. He also knew Merlin probably understood him better than himself.

“Is there anything you need?” Merlin asked the next day, when the dawn found Arthur still in chain mail, sitting on the edge of his bed, playing with Guinevere's ring.

“How can I love someone who's betrayed me?” Arthur asked, still lost in thoughts. “It doesn't make any sense. And how can I make myself love another? Tell me that.”

Merlin knew so much about him, perhaps he had all the answers to Arthur's endless questions.

“If there is nothing else that you require, perhaps I could-”

“I don't know what to do.” Arthur admitted, making Merlin stop talking. “I have no idea... what to do.” Arthur waited for an answer, but it never came. He looked up at Merlin, then. “What should I do, Merlin?”

Merlin's face was serious, his eyes shining in the dim morning light. “All I know, My Lord, is that no one would sacrifice more for Camelot or you than Gwen.”

 _No one other than you_ , Arthur thought to himself, but did not care to say it outloud.

“And if that were so?” He said, instead.

“You must do what your heart tells you, Sire.”

“What if I don't know what that is?”

Merlin's lips turned slightly up. “I think you do.”

He said those words with so much conviction that Arthur envied him, he wished he could be so certain of himself as Merlin seemed to be. He looked down at the ring again, as if it held the answers to the still unanswered questions.

“Is there anything else, Sire?” Arthur heard Merlin's soft question.

“You may go,” he dismissed and, from the corner of his eye, he could see Merlin’s reverent bow before he headed for the door. “Thank you, Merlin,” he said honestly.

After another endless time of considering, Arthur finally got up and walked to his desk, grabbing a new scroll and a quill.

.oOo.

Arthur gave his apologies to Princess Mithian together with a treaty to avoid war with her father. After she was gone, Arthur was left alone with his thoughts again, looking outside his chambers window.

“Have I been a fool?” Arthur asked suddenly when Merlin was preparing his bed for the night, making him look up questioningly. “To give up so much for a woman who betrayed me? A woman who I might not even see again?”

“You will see her again,” Merlin said, as if it were nonsense to think otherwise. “You did the right thing, My Lord. As I knew you would.”

“And how could you be so sure?”

“Because...” Merlin shrugged, smiling. “You're Arthur. You're noble. You're the once and future King.”

“Doomed to be a bachelor,” Arthur complemented sarcastically.

Merlin chuckled.

Arthur looked away. “What's the point of loving someone who cannot be found?”

“Gwen will be found.” And there it was, his unwavering confidence again. Arthur looked at his servant, trying to figure him out as he continued to affirm his certainty on the matter. “You will find each other.”

Arthur frowned at him. “Are you really wise, Merlin, or just a prating fool? I can no longer tell.”

Merlin held his stare as he walked around the bed and... knocked on the chamberpot, sending it clattering on the floor.

“As if there was ever any doubt,” Arthur snorted.

He watched as Merlin averted his eyes, apparently finding it useless to try and defend himself. He fetched a cloth to wipe the floor, instead.

Arthur leaned into one of his bed posts, watching him work. “Why do you care so much about this, anyway?” He asked, genuinely curious. “I know she's your friend too, but you know our arrangement would have to come to an end if I were to take her back. Do you loathe our time together so much?”

“You know it's nothing like that,” Merlin said, and rightfully so.

Arthur didn’t really believe Merlin loathed it; he had seen the blatant adoration on Merlin's honest eyes too many times to doubt that, but he also couldn't fathom Merlin out. Surely, one person could not be so selfless as that, not even Merlin. He had shown to be capable of jealousy before, Arthur had witnessed that as well.

“Your father ruled for more than twenty years by himself and he became a severe man, a fierce King.” Merlin continued to speak, apparently focused on his task. Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but Merlin was faster. “I'm not judging him, I know he did the best he could, and I also know you've proven that you can be a better King than him, but–”

“I'm not ruling alone!” Arthur cut him off. “I have my Knights, which are like brothers to me and Agravaine and my council. And I have _you_ , always annoyingly telling me what to do, even if I never really ask for your opinion. But you're avoiding the question. Aren't you happy? Is that what you're trying to tell me, that you don't what to–”

“No!” Merlin looked up at him, then, his face earnest. “I'm happy! I'd gladly serve you for the rest of my life and die at your side, but I know _you_ 're not happy with things as they are, I know you need more.” He grabbed the soaked cloth and tossed it into the chamberpot, getting up to wash his hands on the water basin, keeping his back turned to Arthur as he continued his argumentation. “I'm your servant and your friend, but I'll never be more than that; I understand where I stand in all of this. You...” He turned to his master again, wiping his hands on a towel. “You need Gwen to become the man you're destined to be, Arthur. You need a Queen. Camelot needs a Queen. Camelot needs someone who can rule by their heart rather than their sword. It's been too long since there has been a woman at this court. Besides, the people need to be assured that you'll have an heir to take over your Kingdom when you're gone. It'd make them feel more confident and secure, but you already know all this. If you think I'd stop you from choosing what's better for Camelot rather than what's better for me, then you don't know me at all.”

Arthur did an impulsive thing, then. He stepped ahead and grabbed Merlin's face between his fingers and kissed his plush lips, earning a stunned gasp in response. He held still as much as he could, waiting for a reaction that never came, so he leaned back, looking into Merlin's round eyes, one at the time. “Still thinking I need Guinevere?”

He knew he was being harsh, yet he could not help but defy Merlin's words, probably because it struck home so much it was nearly invasive, like Merlin had been inside his head and learned it all just to shout it back right at his face. Merlin's lack of reaction was making him edgy, though. What if Arthur had misunderstood it? What if Merlin wasn't that kind of person, after all? He had been with a girl before. What if he had been only indulging Arthur until now?

Merlin let out a shaky breath then, his eyes filling up with tears impossibly quick. “I take nothing back.”

Arthur let go of his face as if his skin burned, turning his back on Merlin and frowning to the window. He was angry, though he could not say exactly why. He heard Merlin leaving and raised his fingers to his own lips.

What had he done?

.Merlin.

Once Arthur had remembered Guinevere, he could not forget her anymore. He found himself looking for her around the castle and drowning his sorrows in wine. What if Merlin was wrong and he had ruined all his chances of being happy? What if they had been taken from him by Guinevere's betrayal? Was he capable of truly forgiving her for what she had done to him? Was he as noble as Merlin believed him to be?

Arthur was annoyed when Merlin pointed him the fact that he had gained some weight, and more so when Merlin let it slip at the Feast of Beltane after promising him he would keep it secret.

“It’s a good job you don’t have anything of any actual importance to keep a secret, isn’t it?” Arthur had said, sarcastically, reminding him of the weight of his responsibility.

Merlin had looked hurt at that, but Arthur had no regrets about his harshness. He needed Merlin to sober up before he did some actual damage in front of all his court.

Merlin was far more attuned than Arthur had expected him to be, though. “You alright?” he asked some time later, noticing Arthur's detachment of the festivities.

“No one likes to be called fat, Merlin,” Arthur tried to make light of it.

“Sorry,” Merlin said, but Arthur should have guessed he could not be fooled so easily. “It's Gwen, isn't it?”

Instead of denying it, Arthur found himself opening up his heart. He blamed the wine. “I look for her in the room, she’s not there… Then I remember why.”

Merlin looked sympathetic as he filled his cup again.

Gwaine burst into the Council Dining Chamber then, looking stricken. “Sire! We're under attack! They're within the city walls!”

Arthur rose to his feet at once, taking off his cloak, slipping in his battle mode like he had trained to do since he was nothing but a child, all traces of alcohol influence gone. “Merlin, get everyone to the inner chamber,” he instructed and watched Merlin obey with no hesitation whatsoever.

“Yes, Sire.” Merlin raised his surprisingly powerful voice then. “Everyone follow me!”

Arthur jumped over the table and grabbed a sword. “Gwaine, secure the armory! Percival, with me!”

.oOo.

When Arthur learned about Agravaine's betrayal, he would probably not have believed it if he hadn't seen his uncle walking beside Morgana with his own two eyes. He was already in pain, with one broken rib or two, but it was nothing compared to the rush of conflicted emotions. Confusion at first, profound hurt then, followed by sheer angry. He grabbed the handle of his sword together with his resolution and he would have jumped right into the enemy's army if it were not for Merlin's strong grip.

“No!” Merlin slammed him painfully back into the column they were hiding behind. “It's no good! Arthur! There are too many of them. We can deal with your uncle later. All right?”

It was the last stroke to Arthur's already shaken confidence, however. He couldn't even fight with his chest hurting like that, he had lost the strength on his arm as his broken bones pierced his flesh every time he moved. He asked Gaius to do something about it so that he could at least die defending his castle, but he must have lost his conscience then, for he had the strangest dream.

He dreamed he was floating with the freedom of the simple minded, the carefreeness of those who had no burden over their shoulders. He did not have to make difficult decisions over the fate of his Kingdom – in fact, he probably didn't have any Kingdom left, he was no King, he was a nobody. All he had to do was follow someone's orders. Merlin's orders. Merlin knew what was best for him, he had always known, always having Arthur's best interest at heart. Arthur had nothing to fear, nothing to argue, nothing to question, just to obey.

It was surprisingly liberating. It was easy and simple and he could rest in the knowledge that Merlin would take care of him.

When he woke up, he was wearing the strangest and most unbecoming clothes and people seemed to believe he was a simpleton. Merlin was clearly enjoying it too much, but Arthur did not have time to worry about that, as they were soon under attack, and then running for their lives with a pair of smugglers who hated kings and everything to do with them.

“You knew. You knew Agravaine was betraying me,” Arthur stated that night, by the fire of their rushed camp.

Merlin had tried to warn him, but Arthur was too blind to see; too trusting of the bond of blood he shared with Agravaine. They were family, as Morgana had been his family either, even when he didn't suspect they actually share the same bloodline.

“I couldn't be sure. But then, I did have my suspicions,” Merlin admitted.

Arthur shook his head. “I feel like such a fool. I put such trust in him. All this time I was blind to his treachery as I was to Morgana's.”

As he had been to Guinevere's feelings for Lancelot either.

“You were deceived, Arthur. That could happen to anyone.”

“Yet it keeps happening to me” Arthur said what had been on his mind. Everyone betrayed him, everyone kept secrets from him. Everyone but Merlin. “I cared about these people. I... don't understand. What have I done wrong? Why do they hate me?”

“No, they don't hate you. They just... crave your power for themselves.”

“Perhaps. Would they still want that power if I was the King my people deserve? Maybe Tristan's right–”

“Tristan was angry and–” Merlin looked over his shoulder, at where the smugglers Tristan and Isolde were sleeping into each other's arms, “–afraid. He needed to blame someone, but it's not you that's to blame.”

Arthur considered Merlin's words for a moment. “You seem very sure about all this.”

“All I know is that, for your many faults,” he said, looking at him from the corner of his eyes, “you are honest and brave and true hearted, and one day you will be the greatest King this land has ever known.”

Arthur smiled a little, taking in the fierceness with which Merlin defended his King and master. His heart warmed at that, but not enough to overcome his sorrow. “Well... Good to know I have the support of my servant, at least.”

“I'm not alone,” Merlin rushed to reassure him again. “Believe me.”

Arthur wanted to believe, he really did. Yet he found that he had lost all his faith in himself, in his own judgment. How could he trust anyone after that? He had lost Camelot because of his foolishness. As much as his intentions were good, Merlin was wrong. Merlin had always failed to see the worst in Arthur, even when Arthur made sure to prove to him how unworthy of his servant's devotion he really was, bringing about his ugliest side, the one that reminded himself of his father, the one Arthur was ashamed of. He was as blind to Arthur's flaws as Arthur had been to others'.

.Merlin.

Arthur watched Merlin and his mother's reunion with something too close to sadness. He envied the open affection with which Hunith hugged Merlin for too many reasons he could not understand himself. He was tired and filled with sorrow, for his Kingdom, for his people and for himself. He had witnessed Tristan and Isolde's care for each other and he felt lonely like he had never felt before.

He accepted the bed Hunith offered him to rest and blacked out by sheer exhaustion. He woke up with someone tending for his wounds and his first and most instinctive thought was that it was Merlin, but then he opened his eyes to find Guinevere there, looking at him uncertainly.

“Guinevere,” Arthur said, breathlessly.

She offered him a sad smile. “Hello, Arthur.”

Arthur prodded himself up on his elbows. “What are you doing here?”

Guinevere shrugged, then shook her head. “It's as good a place as any.”

Arthur stared at her familiar and lovely face, filled with nostalgia, his heart hammering painfully on his chest.

“I've missed you,” Guinevere said at last and Arthur responded with his heart.

“And I you,” he admitted, then hesitated before sitting up and holding out an arm for her to hug him, which she did and Arthur was soon overwhelmed by her scent and her softness, wondering why had he denied himself this all this time.

.oOo.

He did not get to look into his own feelings any more closely, since there was screaming and they had to flee for the mountain tunnels, relying on Merlin's questionable knowledge of the place. They were followed inside the tunnels too and Merlin insisted on going back to create a diversion. Arthur watched him walk back with a tightness in his chest, but he forced himself to keep going on, believing in Merlin's ability to survive the most unexpected threats. He had the upper hand, after all, having grown up playing inside those tunnels.

When Arthur heard what seemed to be a rockfall, he felt his heart skip a beat. “Merlin,” he said, worried.

“He knows the tunnels,” Tristan argued. “He'll find his way.”

Arthur could not accept that, though. He couldn't leave Merlin behind. “I'm going back,” he said with conviction, walking past Tristan, Guinevere and Isolde and retracing their steps.

He found Merlin soon enough, as he approached a corner. “Merlin!” he exclaimed, his worry soon replaced by irritation. “Where have you been?”

Merlin frowned at him. “Were you worried about me?”

“No?” Arthur defended himself, though it sounded more like a question than a statement. “I was making sure we weren't being followed,” he lied.

Merlin looked disbelieving, a suggestion of amusement on his face. “You came back to look for me,” he concluded.

“All right, it's true.” Arthur admitted, his voice softening as he allowed himself to be completely honest for a moment. “I came back because you’re the only friend I have and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Merlin swallowed, looking down and smiling, pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

Arthur turned around to walk back. “Don't be stupid,” he said dismissively to stop it from getting into his servant's big head.

He could not tell if he was more annoyed at Merlin or at himself for feeling so relieved at listening Merlin's reassuring footsteps following right behind him.

.Merlin.

When Guinevere tried to talk to him again, Arthur had had enough time to think things through. Of course Merlin had been sure Arthur would find Guinevere again; he had probably seen that she was safe in Ealdor, at his mother's care, from the very beginning.

Arthur had had enough time to remember Guinevere's betrayal too and he found his heart hardening up to prevent any further hurt from her, for he was too vulnerable when it came to her. He would not give her such power again.

“What happened in Ealdor was a moment's weakness,” he told Guinevere, watching her flinch. “What you did to me... Everything I cherished between us, everything we had, it’s gone. That’ll never change.”

Guinevere looked stricken. “I'm sorry,” she said, walking away from him.

Arthur was brooding later that evening when Merlin found him and sat beside him.

“Come on, I'll take watch,” Merlin said, then continued when Arthur ignored him. “Arthur, what's the matter?” His voice was soft and understanding, everything Arthur didn't need at the moment. “Don't listen to Tristan, he doesn't know you.”

Tristan hadn't lost a single opportunity to criticize Arthur's right to the throne, his so claimed superiority over others, his inherited power to rule what he was taught to know as ordinary people.

Arthur looked at his servant, trying to make him understand what had him second-guessing everything that he believed so far. “I trusted the wrong people.”

Merlin shook his head. “They betrayed you. That wasn't your fault.”

“No.” Arthur dismissed Merlin's excuses on his behalf. “I was a fool. I misjudged everyone... my uncle... Morgana. Every decision I've made has been wrong.”

“You're being too hard on yourself–” Merlin started again, but Arthur cut him off.

“I should be more discerning, wise... a statesman, a King. Tristan's right, there's nothing special about me. I'm just like everyone else.”

“You're not.” Merlin said in a hushed but firm voice. “You're a worthy King.”

“I'm good with a sword. That's all.”

“Your people love you.”

“Most of them are dead. Thanks to me.”

“No, most of them _escaped_.” Merlin insisted, waving around. “They'll be here in the forest, I'm sure of that.”

“Well, if they are, they'll have to find themselves a new King.” Arthur got up and walked away, unable to hear anymore of Merlin's stubborn belief in him.

.oOo.

Merlin woke Arthur up the next morning and said there was something he needed to show him. Arthur was annoyed, but he was also curious, so he followed Merlin, listening to his ridiculous tale about Bruta, the first King of Camelot and a sword that was claimed to prove his lineage's right to the throne.

Arthur did not believe him at first, but then he saw the sword and he was overwhelmed by it. It was beautiful and alluring as no other weapon Arthur had ever seen. There was clearly something special about it and it called on him from deep within, leaving his fingers tingling from anticipation.

Arthur had suspected from the beginning that Merlin was up to something, but he was sure of it when he saw some of his subjects approaching them, coming from every direction, some of his Knights amongst them. “What the hell are you playing at?” he asked Merlin in a hushed voice.

“I'm proving that you are their leader and their King.”

“That sword is stuck fast in solid stone,” Arthur said, disbelieving.

“And you're going to pull it out.”

Arthur was beginning to feel exasperated. “Merlin, it's impossible.”

“Arthur, you're the true King of Camelot.”

Arthur glanced back at the crowd of people surrounding the sword in the stone before turning back at Merlin. “Do you want me to look like a fool?”

“No, I'm going to make you see that Tristan's wrong; you aren't just anyone, you are special. You and you alone can draw out that sword.”

Arthur debated about the wisdom of listening to his servant, but he decided to try and shut Merlin up, if nothing else. He drew his own sword and stuck it in the ground. “You better be right about this,” he warned.

Arthur approached the stone slowly, listening to Merlin's footsteps behind him. He looked up at the crowd hesitantly, then placed both hands on the hilt. He tried to pull it up, but the sword did not budge, as he knew it wouldn't.

“You have to believe, Arthur,” Merlin dared him.

Arthur shook with the effort, but the sword was thoroughly stuck. He felt everyone's eyes at him, felt the burden of their expectations on him.

Merlin continued talking, prodding him. “You're destined to be Albion's greatest King.”

Arthur let go of the sword. It was absurd. Merlin was probably delusional. Yet he sounded so convinced of it, Arthur found himself _wanting_ to believe him.

Merlin's voice sounded more sure than ever, his tone deep. “Nothing, not even this stone can stand in your way.”

Arthur assessed the sword and repositioned himself with surety. He placed one hand on the sword hilt and closed his eyes. He allowed Merlin's trust in him to penetrate his own doubts.

“Have faith,” Merlin's voice felt like a caress over his skin.

Arthur lifted his chin, willing himself to believe. When he pulled the sword, it came with ease, as if the stone was giving up on its claim over it. Arthur pulled it out and wielded it, staring in pure amazement. He had done it!

“Long live the King,” he heard Leon's cry and it was soon followed by the others'.

Arthur felt worthy of his position once again and capable of defending his people. He also felt safe in the knowledge that Merlin had been right there and would always be there, no matter what happened, to keep him from giving up again. He looked over his shoulder and found his servant beaming with pride, his eyes red and welled up with tears, his smile shaking with raw emotion. Arthur smiled back at him and thrust his sword up as if in a toast, hoping Merlin would understand how grateful he was.

.Merlin.

Arthur was thankful for his men’s trust in him, but he was also worried. Not about the upcoming fight to regain Camelot, for he was confident his men were far better with a sword than the Southron. It was Morgana who worried him.

“I never finished Gaius's story.” Merlin said when Arthur confessed his concern.

“Not now, Merlin, please.”

“Will you just listen?” Merlin put his hand on his hips and Arthur lowered his head in resigned acquiescence. “When the sword was thrust into the stone, the ancient King foretold that one day it would be freed again, at a time when Camelot needed it most. The man who freed it would unite the land of Albion and rule over the greatest Kingdom the world has ever known.” Merlin shrugged. “That man is you, Arthur.”

Arthur frowned, but Merlin smiled that broad smile of his.

“You're making this up,” Arthur accused, suspicious.

“Why would I do that? Your head's already as big as your waist. I believe it, though. And I believe in you. I always have.” He left after that.

Arthur looked at the sword and considered Merlin's words. Merlin had been right before, why wouldn’t Arthur believe him this time?

.oOo.

Arthur was pleasantly surprised when Tristan and Isolde offered to join their cause. He was examining the sword's foreign inscriptions, lost in thoughts when Guinevere approached him from behind.

“Arthur,” she called, making Arthur turn to face him, “if anything happens to us, I want you to know–”

“Guinevere–” Arthur tried to stop her, but she persisted.

“I understand why you can't forgive me. But I never once stopped loving you. Never once.”

She left after that and Arthur watched as she walked away, frowning.

.oOo.

Arthur faced his half-sister that very day. Maybe Merlin’s so called “destiny” helped, since Morgana proved to have momentarily lost her powers, but it also took it’s price. Arthur’s life was saved by Isolde during a fight, but she was fatally wounded after that.

Arthur watched with profound sorrow as she gave her last breath in Tristan's arms; he witnessed their suffering and something in him changed at that moment, when he looked at Guinevere's face. He imagined himself in Tristan's position and it dawned on him how petty he had been. Everything that happened felt so small before the inevitability of death. Should he deny himself his happiness with Guinevere because of something that happened long ago and that both of them had paid their price for? Shouldn't he leave the past in the past and seize the time they had ahead of them, making the most of it?

He thought over it after the battle was won, when they were all trying to put things back into place. He found Guinevere in his chamber's, trying to bring some order to the chaos there. She was back into her clothes, looking the same as ever while Arthur assessed her from the door.

“It will take some time,” she said, referring to the mess.

“Well, Merlin can take care of it.” Arthur joked and Guinevere smiled back at him.

Her smile faded as she stepped forward, though. “If you want me to go, to return to Ealdor–”

“I want you to stay,” Arthur said with conviction. He stepped into the room. “Guinevere–”

She looked down. “You don't have to say anything.”

“Whatever's happened between us–”

“Please, Arthur, I can't forgive myself.”

“I don't care.” Arthur stopped in front of her and Guinevere looked at him expectantly. “I just don’t ever want to lose you.”

Guinevere smiled fondly at that, her eyes welling up with tears.

Arthur considered her for a moment and then took her hands, looking into her beautiful brown eyes. “Will you marry me?”

Guinevere smiled more openly at that. “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, with all my heart.”

Arthur believed it, he truly did. He leaned into her and she welcomed him in her arms, kissing him passionately. He felt whole again, as if someone had mended him back together, piece by piece. He forgot himself in her familiar touch until he heard a noise at the door and they both turned to see Merlin standing there.

Arthur's heart skipped a beat, then. He held his breath, looking into Merlin's round eyes, and he feared once again that he might break all over again, that he might miss one important piece of what made him whole when he had just found the other.

He did not have to worry much, though, for Merlin beamed at them, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he laughed. “Finally!” he said and Arthur watched with awe as Guinevere run to him, hugging him.

“Thank you, Merlin. For all that you've done to me,” she said, rocking him like a dear brother.

Arthur felt his throat constrict when Merlin's eyes found his, his face still half-tucked into Guinevere's neck. “I'd do anything for you.”

Arthur let out a huff of laugh then, blinking to keep the tears from coming. Perhaps it was true that no one would sacrifice more for Camelot than Guinevere, yet it was also true that no one would sacrifice more for his King than Merlin.

“So, when's the wedding?” Merlin asked as soon as he was released from Guinevere's arms, sniffing.

They both looked at Arthur, then.

Arthur shrugged. “Tomorrow?” He watched as they both giggled, then frowned. “I'm not kidding, I want it tomorrow. I've waited too long already. I won't risk anything happening to prevent it again.”

They shared a concerned look before rushing out of the room at once, speaking at the same time. Arthur gaped at the door as it closed, leaving him alone in the complete mess that was his bedroom.

.oOo.

The next day, Arthur said his vows to Guinevere before his people and crowned her his Queen.

.Merlin.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing, thank you for reading!

Arthur could easily say that his first year of marriage was the most happy of his entire life. Morgana had disappeared for some reason unknown; there were rumors that she had been captured by King Sarrum, but nothing confirmed. There was peace in Camelot and in its borders. His people loved him and approved of him as their ruler. He had loyal friends as his brothers in arms, a devoted manservant and a loving wife by his side. What else could he ask for?

As a Queen, Guinevere was a natural. She had proven to be worthy of her crown, wearing it with wisdom and responsibility. The people of Camelot had learned to love and accept her. The peasant's had been faster to approve of her than the nobles, since she used to be one of their kind. Yet she had earned the nobles’ trust as well and could easily pass as one of their own.

As a wife, she was sweet and gentle and understanding like Arthur knew she would be. She brought to light Arthur's best side, just like Merlin had predicted. Arthur wanted to be a better man and a better husband for her.

He was not perfect, however hard he tried. For more than Arthur was happy at his marriage, he was not immune to temptation. Oh, he did not regret marrying her and he was faithful to his wife with his actions, even though he could not say the same for his mind. It kept playing tricks on him and leading his treacherous body to respond to its most infamous desires. And the fact that said temptation lived within close reach day and night did not make it any easier to resist it.

Merlin had matured some more during the past year, looking considerably strong for someone so slim. He also looked more confident in his own skin. He was respected by all, within the castle walls and beyond it, for it was no secret how dear he was to the Royal Couple and how unquestionable his loyalty to the Kingdom was. There was also the fact that Merlin was becoming a very skilled physician, taking every opportunity he had to study and exercise his knowledge. Arthur took comfort in teasing and prodding his manservant at will to disguise his conflicting feelings, and he would often allow himself to be fooled by his own act, but sometimes he would catch himself looking at Merlin's lips with longing or reaching out to touch him – even if it were only by cuffing him in the head – just to prove to himself that he could.

Intimacy with Guinevere felt right and affectionate and satisfying, yet sometimes Arthur missed the consuming fire and the instinctive side of his time with Merlin. While being with Guinevere was caring and loving, being with Merlin had been intense and visceral, leaving his body humming with pleasure and fulfillment. Arthur tried not to remember, tried not to think of it, but then, when he least expected, he would see Merlin licking his lips or bending over to retrieve something behind a piece of furniture and his body would respond instantly, making him angry and edgy at himself and at Merlin.

He also knew he was not alone in his cravings, for he had seen his own desire and yearning reflected on Merlin's face too many times to dismiss it for something else. They never mentioned it, though, having reached a tacit agreement about leaving the past in the past. Arthur had never mentioned anything to Guinevere either, telling himself there was no point in doing so, since it had come to an end and would never happen again. There was no need to disturb his wife with things that were long – albeit perhaps not efficiently – done with.

Arthur had learned to be less selfish in bed with Guinevere. He had to be more delicate with her than he was used to and it took him more effort to please her, but he liked the challenge. He had studied and explored her body enough to know what she liked and how she liked it. He knew she was not much given to novelty in the lovemaking as she was more of a conservative and matter-of-fact person. Therefore she never made any initiative to pleasure him with her mouth and she had looked at his husband with a strange – and mostly unwelcoming – expression on her face the one time Arthur had touched her ass more intimately. Yet, she was his wife and his Queen and Arthur could not bring himself to force her to do something she was not comfortable with. He had learned his lesson the hard way before, with Merlin, and he had vowed to himself he would never do it again.

He could not always keep himself in check, though. One morning, after dreaming of Merlin sucking him off in the stables, Arthur had woken up achingly hard. He snuggled closer to Guinevere's warm body and fitted himself into her back, rubbing his cock into her nightgown.

Guinevere hummed sleepily, but did not ask him to move away, sighing when he brushed her hair aside to kiss her neck. “Merlin will be here soon,” she mumbled into the pillow. “You have practice this morning, remember?”

“We'll have to be quick, then,” Arthur said into her ear and saw her cheek move when she smiled.

“Do what you have to do,” Guinevere said, tucking her face further into the pillow and guiding Arthur’s hand down her nightgown.

Arthur did not wait for a clearer invitation. He rolled her clothes up and his own sleeping breeches down and moved on top of her, guiding himself into her body. She was not wet enough, so Arthur had to add a bit of saliva to ease himself in and he heard she gasp as he seated inside her. He was too far gone to care for gentleness, so he rocked into her in fast and powerful jerks of his hips, breathing into her neck. He made the mistake of closing his eyes and his mind was promptly filled with the image of Merlin below him, panting and squirming. He could almost hear the deep noises coming out of his mouth at every thrust. He grunted as he spilled his seed in strong pulses, feeling the pleasure coursing through his whole body.

He sprawled out beside Guinevere next, his heartbeat thunderous to his own ears. He felt Guinevere shifting next to him and turned his face to see her staring down at him, prodding her head on an elbow.

“Where were you?” she asked softly, frowning at him.

Arthur frowned back. “What do you mean?”

“You seemed to be far away. What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said quickly. He was overtaken with concern as he propped himself up on his own elbows. “Have I hurt you?”

He knew he had been too fast for her to enjoy it, but he should not have been so rough.

“Of course not,” Guinevere smiled down at him, caressing his arm.

Arthur rubbed at his own face. “You should've stopped me.”

“You looked like you needed it.”

Arthur stared at her loving face and felt awful inside. He certainly did not deserve her. He was about to say so when he heard the door opening softly. He cursed under his breath as he pulled his clothes back in place, pulling the bed covers over them both, closing his eyes and ignoring Guinevere's chuckle. He heard when Merlin opened the heavy curtains which kept their bed away from prying serving eyes.

“Good morning, Merlin,” he heard Guinevere's soft voice. “Arthur's already awake.”

Arthur huffed indignantly as he opened his eyes to stare at his wife. “You treacherous thing! You sold me out!”

“She hardly sold you out, My Lord,” Merlin was quick to come into the Queen's defense as he walked on to pull the window curtains and let the sunlight in. “I heard someone cursing when I entered, and since you're the only foul-mouthed between the two of you, I wouldn't have to be a genius to figure it out.”

“It's certainly a good thing you don't have to be a genius to perform your lousy work or you would have been sacked a long time ago. Oh, wait! You were! More than once, in fact.”

“I told you before, Sire, you can't get rid of me. Now, up you go! Rise and shine!”

“And I told you before,” Arthur raised his voice when Merlin walked back to the table, at the other side of the partition, “you cannot tell me what to do!”

“I can and I will,” came Merlin's reply together with clattering of crockery, “because if you don't get up now you won't be able to have breakfast before practice, and if you don't have breakfast you'll get cranky all morning and admonish me for not insisting on getting you out of bed sooner.”

Arthur looked at Guinevere after noticing she was laughing silently. He poked her with his elbow. “Aren't you going to say anything?”

She looked sideways at him. “Believe me, Arthur, you'll prefer if I don't.”

Arthur let out an outraged huff, but got up at last, resigning himself with a full scheduled day.

.oOo.

Arthur did not meet Guinevere for the rest of the day, spending the entirety of it on the field and outside the citadel, down the market. He often took a tour through the city from time to time to be closer to his people, keep them reassured and prevent them from forgetting his face. They got back to the castle at sunset; Arthur asked for Merlin to draw him a bath and for his dinner to be served in the Royal Chambers later. He was already in his clean tunic and breeches when he found Guinevere looking out the window of their room with a furrow in her brow.

Arthur approached her in silence and hugged her from behind, nosing at her neck, inhaling her scent. "Good evening, My Lady." He felt her tense under his touch, but thought it was due to sneaking up on her.

“How was it?” she asked, still looking outside.

“Good.” Arthur breathed in deeply, taking in her familiar scent. "You smell lovely as always." He slid his hands up her arms and dragged the collar of her nightgown down her shoulder to kiss the skin there.

Guinevere squirmed at that and moved away from him. "I'm sorry, Arthur, I fear you'll have to settle for a cuddle tonight." She offered him an apologetic smile, but it did not reach her eyes.

Arthur tried not to look too disappointed. He had intended to redeem himself for his rush that morning. The fact that he had remembered his dream every time he looked at Merlin had had him aroused for the most part of the day. Yet he knew his frustration was not her fault. She only stopped his advances when she was too indisposed or in that particular time of the month. Arthur should have already anticipated it would be the later, but he had not cared to keep track of the days.

"It's alright," Arthur assured his wife and stepped behind her again, this time restraining his wandering hands to her arms and kissing the top of her head. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Sure," Guinevere said, but he could tell there was something troubling her.

"What's the matter, my dear?"

"Nothing, really. It's just..." She shook her head. "Don't mind me, I'm just being silly as always."

"Silly? You?" Arthur turned her gently until she was facing him. "You might have your flaws like any human being, though I must admit I can't think of one at the moment," she rolled her eyes at this, but Arthur carried on, "but if there's one thing you're not, it's silly, Guinevere."

She sighed, averting her eyes. Arthur waited for her to talk, bringing her to his chest in a loose embrace.

"I should be pregnant by now," Guinevere finally said.

Arthur let go of her waist to stare at her questioningly. "Well, in this case, I have to admit that you're being silly indeed!" He said lightly, but Guinevere didn't smile as he expected her to, so he continued more seriously. "Gwen, it's too soon for you to trouble yourself with this. We've been married for no more than a year."

"I know, but... Every time you have to go on a patrol or visit the lower town I worry that something could happen to you and then I'd be left with nothing of you." Her voice was barely a whisper at the end.

"Guinevere...." Arthur sighed. He brought her closer again, this time more firmly. He knew she was more emotional in this time of month, but he still had trouble understanding why she was making such a big deal out of this. "There's nothing for you to worry about. We've been at peace for some time."

"I know, Arthur. But I can't stop worrying. Besides, I've been dreaming about having a child of yours for so long now."

"Well, I can't say I wouldn't enjoy that as well, but I don't mind if it takes some time for it to happen. I have you and that's enough for me now. More than enough, in fact. But I also can't stand seeing you unhappy and if you want a child, than you shall have a child!"

Guinevere moved away just enough to stare him in the eyes, biting her lip. "Promise?" She whispered.

"Yes! As far as I'm concerned, I'd be glad to. In fact, I'd start it today if I could."

Guinevere chuckled. "Of course you would," she said and Arthur felt relieved. She wrapped her arms tighter around him. When she next spoke, though, her voice was unsure again. "But what if I can't get pregnant?"

"Guinevere," Arthur brought her chin up to face him again, "like I said, it's too soon for that kind of distress. Besides, as you pointed out earlier, I've been away for weeks at a time, so maybe that's why it didn't happen yet.” He held her shoulders firmly, considering her for a moment. “I'll tell you what, I'll ask Leon to take charge of the patrols from now on until we take care of that."

Guinevere's answering smile was worth it and when she kissed him, Arthur truly believed that it would be all right.

.Merlin.

Time passed by and Guinevere was nothing if not determined. Arthur always knew her to be fierce; after a few months of trying to impregnate his wife, however, Arthur found himself sleep deprived and tired in the mornings. Sometimes he even took a few excuses to delay the moment to retire, hoping that she would bore of waiting and go to sleep. He never thought there would come a time when he would try to escape intimacy with his wife, yet it had became something of an obligation lately and it had lost the seductive and passionate side of it.

Another downside of it was that he missed terribly going out on patrols. Not that he did not trust Leon with them, but he liked being outside with his men and loathed being stuck in the castle when his Knights had so much to take care of outside it’s walls.

On the other hand, Arthur was always so drained he did not have the energy to lust for Merlin.

"This pants are too loose, Merlin! Can't you even dress me properly now?"

Merlin rounded him to tighten his laces. "Well, if you keep this up, I'll have to dress you with one of mine. I never thought I'd say this, but you're losing weight!"

Arthur frowned. "Maybe you're not feeding me properly, then."

"Oh, I'm feeding you just fine!” Merlin helped him into his jacket. “We both know that if there is in fact _someone_ to blame for this, it's certainly not _me_. Alas, I don't know why you bother to put on your clothes, these days."

Arthur gaped down on his servant. "The hell are you implying by this?" He asked, indignant.

"Nothing that the whole castle isn't aware of, Sire." Merlin averted his eyes as he grabbed Arthur's chain mail. He moved to put it over his head, but Arthur ducked away, grabbing Merlin's forearm.

"Merlin, have you been flapping your mouth about my private life?"

Being the only person allowed full access to the royal chambers at any day and time, Merlin had walked in on them not just once, but several times. In fact, no one else had ever seen anything. If someone had told the whole castle, it could only have been him!

"Me?" Merlin snorted, then shook his head. "Hardly."

"How can you be so sure? I know how blathering you get when you're on the cider."

Merlin huffed in outrage. "I've never said a word about what happens in your chambers and you know it! You'd be subject to a lot more gossips if I had." He shook Arthur's hand away and pushed the chain mail somewhat forcibly over his head, taking advantage of the King's astonishment after those words. "But the maids like to talk and they know you and the Queen have been dismissing the servants soon in the evening, calling them back in later than usual. Besides, you both have been sneaking into your chambers in the middle of the day at the same time–"

“Sneaking into our chambers?” Arthur felt his cheeks heat at that. “There's no _sneaking_ when it's _our_ chambers in the first place!”

“I noticed you didn't deny it, My Lord.” Merlin said. He was at Arthur's back, grabbing his cloak, so Arthur could not tell for sure if he was being teasing or bitter.

Arthur was tempted to scold Merlin for his language, for speaking of what happened between his wife and him in private, even for daring to mention what used to happen between the two of them, but he got hold of his tongue on time. He knew Merlin was discreet and more trustworthy than Arthur deserved him to be. Merlin never gave any sign of regretting his words or his actions of encouragements to Arthur's marriage. On the contrary, he had always being supportive and understanding. Yet sometimes Arthur caught his manservant off guard, looking at his King with such sad eyes Arthur felt his chest tighten just by seeing it. It was always gone in a blink, though, and Arthur was left wondering if it had ever been there or if he had imagined it.

Arthur considered if he should say something to Merlin now, even though he could not imagine what to say to him. It was not like he needed to justify himself for being intimate with his own wife, after all.

Before he could come up with anything to say, Merlin raised his eyes and offered him a cheeky smile. "If only all our troubles were like yours," he said and carried on with his duties as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, leaving Arthur speechless.

.oOo.

Apart from being exhausted most of the time, Arthur still had nothing to complain about, as Merlin had kindly reminded him, so he kept up with his part on the bargain and only left the castle when strictly necessary or at those times of the month when Guinevere did not let him come near her – quite literally, lately, since she was becoming more and more frustrated whenever her monthlies came.

She was somber and edgy those days. At first, Arthur tried to cheer her up and distract her, but it soon became clear that the most effective strategy was to leave her alone and wait patiently for it to be over. For this reason, Arthur took whatever excuse he had to spend the night in the spare room he kept to some eventuality, like when he arrived from a quest too late in the evening and did not want to bother her sleep or when he had to get up too early. He stayed there until she was herself again, seeming more determined than ever.

A few months after that, though, Arthur walked in their chambers to find Guinevere sitting on the floor, crying with so much despair his first reaction was to call the guards, thinking something terrible had happened to her.

“Guinevere!” Arthur crouched in front of her, trying to push her into his lap. “Gwen, please, talk to me.”

“Leave me alone!” She screamed, pushing him away.

“Gwen, for God's sake, tell me what's happened!”

“Sire?” One of the guards asked, while the other had disappeared, probably calling for reinforcements.

“Did someone enter our chambers?” Arthur asked after making sure that she wasn't visibly hurt.

“Only her maid, Sire. She was carrying the Queen's laundry. It didn't seem like there was something amiss.”

“Go fetch her right this moment.”

When the maid arrived, Arthur had managed to take Guinevere to bed and allowed Gaius to examine her, but the Queen was still shaking with sobs and refusing to say anything.

“I don't know what happened, Sire,” the maid said, her round eyes going from the bed to her King. “She was fine, when I left her. Only–” she stopped herself, biting her lip and looking at the guard standing beside her from the corner of her eye.

“Leave us,” Arthur asked the guard and then turned at her again when they had some privacy, his tone ferocious. “What is it? I command you to tell me everything you know.”

“S-She's just had her monthlies, Sire. She found out when she was changing to go to bed.”

Arthur let the air out, blinking a few times as he turned his back on the maid, trying to calm down. He felt disappointed himself. Not so much for the fact that there was no pregnancy, but for he knew how much it meant to his wife, how much she had longed for that to happen. It had been almost a year since Arthur had promised her a child.

“Can I help with anything, Sire?” The maid asked, still fidgeting with her apron.

“You may leave,” Arthur said. He looked at the bed and found Merlin there, holding Guinevere's hand and talking to her in a soothing tone. He had not seen his servant entering, but imagined he had followed right after Gaius.

Arthur walked to the window and looked out for a moment, listening to his wife's sobs and Merlin's quiet whispers.

Gaius joined him soon. “There's nothing wrong with her, Sire. Not physically, I mean.”

“Is she in pain, then?” Arthur asked, trying to figure out what was going on and where to go from that. “Sometimes it happens, right? When she's bleeding.”

“I don't believe so.” Gaius said. “I gave her a sleeping draught, it must help her sleep, but there's nothing more we can do for her now.”

“What about me? Is there anything I could do?” Arthur sounded a little desperate to his own ears.

“I'm afraid there isn't, Sire. I'd suggest you to let her rest for tonight and talk to her in the morning.”

“Yes, of course,” Arthur nodded.

Gaius excused himself and left. Arthur looked at Guinevere, who was quiet now, her face tilted to the other side, her chest moving smoothly as she breathed.

Merlin let go of her hand gently and stood up from his crouching position, looking at his King with open concern. “Do you need anything from me, Sire?”

“Just... see that our breakfast is served here in the morning,” Arthur said, a bit distractedly.

“It'll be alright,” Merlin said after some time, like Arthur should have anticipated he would. “It's too soon yet and you're both young. It'll happen when you least expect it to.”

“I know!” Arthur snapped, then looked at Guinevere and sighed, lowering his voice. “I know. It's not like I'm in a hurry, but she can't seem to see reason when it comes to this and I'm beginning to worry for her. Perhaps I shouldn't have encouraged her to try so hard.”

“Don't say that.” Merlin said, reproachful. “She's lucky to have you to support her. She's a strong woman. She'll make it through this.”

Arthur sighed, looking away from him. “Thank you, Merlin,” he said, dismissively.

Merlin curtsied and left. After one last glance to Guinevere's sleeping form, Arthur walked to one of the chairs next to the hearth and settled for the night.

.oOo.

By morning, Guinevere was calmer, but she looked drained. She scolded him for spending the night in a chair and assured him she was feeling better, but there was something in the way she kept averting his eyes that told an entirely different story.

“You know you can tell me anything, don't you?” Arthur said, kissing her knuckles. He had joined her in the bed, sitting with his back to the headboard and bringing her head to his chest.

She kept silent for a moment and Arthur waited patiently.

“What if I can't bear a child?” Guinevere asked, at last, her voice wavering.

“Guinevere...” Arthur sighed. “Gaius already said you are healthy–”

“He also said this things can't be diagnosed or foretold.” She straightened up and turned to face him. “I know you think it's too soon, but what if we keep trying and trying and it never happens? Are you truly aware of what it'd mean? I'm your wife, Arthur! Even if you had a child with another woman, they could never be your rightful heir.”

Arthur shook his head. “Guinevere, listen to yourself–”

“No, Arthur, _you_ listen to me,” she cut him off, her voice firm while her eyes filled with tears again. “You married me for love. You chose me, a mere maid, to be your Queen when you could have married any princess you wanted! You could have just _had_ me, if you wanted to.”

“I could _never_ –”

“But you could!” Guinevere insisted. “You're the King! You could have persisted and convinced me or seduced me, and if everything else failed, you could have just taken me to your bed! Yet you chose to marry me because you needed a wife to produce an heir! A rightful heir, not a bastard. A kingdom without an heir is a doomed kingdom. It's all Morgana could ask for, you see? And all because I can't– Because I'm incapable of–”

“Stop saying that,” Arthur admonished. “You don't know that for sure. Maybe it's just not the time yet. We'll have to be patient.”

Guinevere was silent for a moment and Arthur was beginning to hope that she had understood, but it became clear that it was not the case when she next spoke. “What if... What if we didn't have to wait? What if we found a way to ensure it. Like your parents did.”

Arthur froze for a moment, incapable of believing what he was hearing. Was she suggesting they resorted to magic? Arthur had confronted Gaius about Morgause's story long after his father's death, when he thought it would not hurt to hear the truth. It had hurt nevertheless, and terribly so. Not just because his father had kept that from him for so long, but also because Uther had sworn Morgause was lying about the whole story.

Arthur had told that to Guinevere, but he never thought it would give her such insane ideas. He shook his head decisively. “No. Don't even think about it. I'm not committing the same mistakes my father did. I know the costs and I'm not willing to pay for them.”

“But at least you'd have a child!”

“I can live without a child, Guinevere, but I don’t think I can live without you. You saw how bitter my father became. I don't want to be like him,” Arthur said, remembering Merlin saying those words to him once, years before.

Guinevere slumped at that, her eyes becoming distant again. She allowed Arthur to maneuver her until she was leaning into him again.

“It's not your fault.” Arthur stated, wishing he could make her see it. “Nobody's blaming you besides yourself.”

She did not say anything right away and Arthur was allowing himself to relax once again, but then she murmured something under her breath.

“Pardon me?”

“You wouldn't exist if it weren't for this so called mistake,” Guinevere said, her voice a mere whisper. “Your father would probably have made Morgana his heir. What would have become of Camelot then?”

Arthur did not know what to say after that. He wanted to point out that Morgana probably wouldn't have been so bitter then, but he had no way of knowing that. Deep down, he knew no amount of reasoning would break through Guinevere right now. He just hoped she could move on soon. He kissed the top of her head and caressed her shoulder as they lost themselves in their own thoughts.

.Merlin.

Things did not get much better after that. Anyone who visited the castle probably would never guess what troubled the mind of the Queen, since she was as committed to the Kingdom as she had always been. She would sit by Arthur's side during hours, listening to the complaints of farmers and villagers, offering advises of unquestionable wisdom, taking care of the castle's staff, planning the feasts, performing her part as a Queen flawlessly.

At night, when Arthur joined her in bed, she would not push him away, but she also was not the same anymore. It was like something had broken inside of her. At times, she would just lie there and allow Arthur to take his pleasure from her body as he pleased, looking distant and detached. Arthur tried to convince himself that it wasn't that bad, but he felt disgusted with himself later. He spent less and less time in their chambers until he stopped sleeping there at all.

Whenever the opportunity showed up, he asked Merlin to pack some provisions and took his Knights on long, fruitless patrols. He ignored the looks Merlin gave him at times, when it became clear that Arthur was postponing the time to get back home on purpose.

Apart from that, Merlin did not ask questions. Sometimes, Arthur wondered how much he knew. There was no way Merlin hadn’t noticed his long absence at the Royal Chambers. Besides, Arthur was always asking for Gaius to examine Guinevere, see if she was alright, so Merlin surely knew more than he let on. Arthur was grateful for his silence, though. He did not think he could talk about that to anybody just yet; about the failure he was as a husband. Least of all to Merlin, who had given up his own cravings so that Arthur could be happy with Guinevere.

“There must be something you can do!” Arthur said to Gaius one evening, after walking in on Guinevere crying once again.

“She's not sick in the flesh. She's sick in here,” the physician pointed to his own head, “and in here,” he pointed to his heart next. “She's mourning for the son she never had! I'm only a physician, I can't treat what there's no remedy for and I can certainly not mend broken hearts.”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Wait for her to get better on her own?”

Arthur had never felt so useless, so powerless. How could he live with himself while his wife suffered like that?

“I'm afraid that's exactly what you can do, Sire.” Gaius said, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. “She'll come out of it when she does. All we can do is show her our support while she fights her own demons.”

Arthur had stormed out of Gaius' chambers and into his own after that. He found Merlin scrubbing the floor when he entered, but walked around him straight to the window, leaning on the threshold and taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

“Do you want me to draw you a bath?” asked Merlin's gentle voice from behind him.

Arthur was about to say no when he thought better of it. “Yes, I'd like that,” he said at last.

He heard Merlin leave and allowed the tears to run free for once. He sobbed and sniffed and wiped his eyes angrily, but the tears would not stop coming. He heard Merlin come and go with buckets full of hot water as he stood there, unmoving. He thought he heard a commotion at the corridor and Merlin arguing with someone, but he could not bring himself to care about what was happening. By the time Merlin finished, the tears had already dried out.

“All set!” He heard Merlin's call and moved away from the window, allowing Merlin to undress him. “I talked to Gwen today,” his servant said conversationally.

“You did?” Arthur couldn't stop sounding hopeful, as if Merlin could work some miracle and make it all go back to normal again.

“She said she misses you.”

“She won't talk to me!” Arthur said, wounded, raising his arms so that Merlin could pull his tunic over his head. “Every time I try to go near her, she takes a step back, like I'm some kind of... of beast!”

“She needs time by herself. But she'll pull through, eventually. I'm certain that she will. You just have to be patient.”

Arthur grabbed Merlin's shoulder to balance himself while stepping out of his breeches. “I cannot stand to see her suffering like this, Merlin.”

“I know it's hard for you, but you have to have faith in her too.” Merlin straightened up, but did not step away from him nor tried to dislodge Arthur's hand from his shoulder. “Not everything's for you to fix, you know?”

Arthur knew he should probably say something, but he could not take his eyes off of Merlin's. They were so close and Merlin felt so comfortingly familiar – even his sweaty smell made him nostalgic. Merlin's smile died out slowly before the scrutiny. Instead of letting his hand fall, though, Arthur found himself pulling him closer, touching their foreheads. His hand slipped from Merlin's shoulder to his nape, massaging the skin there.

“I miss you,” Arthur said quietly, still looking him in the eye. He was naked and Merlin was fully dressed. It should be unsettling, yet he could not feel anything but longing.

He watched as Merlin's expression changed into something condescending and he thought he could guess what was going through his servant's head.

“I'm not just saying it because I'm feeling lonely,” Arthur amended. He raised his other hand to caress Merlin's cheek. “I really miss you. I have been missing you since forever, I just...”

Merlin gasped, closing his eyes and leaning into Arthur's hand. His breath was suddenly shallow. “I've always been here,” he whispered back. “And I'll always be.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Arthur heard the words leaving his mouth and swallowed, terrified and relieved at the same time.

Merlin pressed his eyes closed tight, but then he stepped back, not enough to be out of his master' reach, but enough to stop Arthur from touching his face. “You can ask anything of me,” he said fiercely, his eyes twinkling with moisture. “Anything, and I'll do it. But please, don't ask me to betray Gwen.”

Arthur let his arms fall at his side, feeling more empty than ever.

He stepped in the tub when Merlin turned around with the excuse to sort out his clothes and closed his eyes as he leaned his head onto the border, letting out a mournful sigh. How could it have turned out to this in a year’s time? He had been so happy! Why couldn't things be easy and simple for him for once in his life?

.Merlin.

Gwaine and Leon were hurt in a patrol one day. They were attacked by a small group of bandits that should not have caused them harm, hadn't them been distracted with one of Gwaine's anecdotes. Leon had a spear buried through his thigh and Gwaine only just stopped a mace from smashing his own head, but not before it scratched his scalp dangerously close to his ear. Merlin had attended them on the spot, immobilizing Leon's leg but forbidding them from pulling the broken spear out.

“He'll bleed to death if you move it,” Merlin said as he used his own scarf to bandage Gwaine's head, knotting it as tightly as he could. “And Gwaine's wound was superficial, but he'll need stitches. We must hurry back.”

Gwaine's chain mail was drenched in blood by the time they arrived in Camelot, but he was still conscious, though his half smile was a bit tired as he accepted Percival's help to climb the stairs while Arthur and Elyan carried Leon up. Merlin rushed ahead to warn Gaius.

Gaius had two beds ready when they arrived and gave Merlin some instructions to take care of Gwaine's wound while he treated Leon.

“Can we be of some assistance?” Percival asked gravelly.

“We'll need clean water,” it was Merlin who said as he unwrapped Gwaine's head and Percival run through the door. “Elyan, you should assist Gaius holding Leon in place while he takes that off of him.”

Gaius nodded and started to instruct Elyan on how to grab Leon's legs.

“What about me?” Arthur asked and saw Merlin frown at him from over his shoulder, as if he had forgotten he was there.

“Come help Elyan, Sire,” Gaius called before Merlin could say anything. “Hold Leon's upper body down. And give him something to bite; that cloth over there shall suit.”

Arthur obeyed Gaius instructions and watched Leon's muffled scream as Gaius took the spear out of his leg. As soon as it was out, the blood flooded from the open wound and Gaius was quick to clean it and wrap it in tight bandages.

When it was safe to let Leon go, Arthur patted his Knight's shoulder and wiped the sweat from his upper lip as he took off his dirty gloves and flopped down on a stool. He watched Merlin instruct Percival to pour down some of the water in a bucket next to him and soaked some cloths before pressing them to the side of Gwaine's head to cool it off.

“I'll have to shave some of your hair,” Merlin was explaining to Gwaine, who whined. “Don't be such a baby. It's only hair, it'll grow back. You're lucky the mace didn't get you in the face.” His voice was stern as he leaned over Gwaine, speaking to him from up close. Arthur had to struggle to hear what they were talking, ignoring the other voices in the room.

“I’ll let you shave it if you promise I won't die from this,” Gwaine said, his voice slurred as if he was drunk. “I didn't win over all of those Southron Morgana made me fight while I was starving just to dye at a bunch of stupid bandits' hands.”

“You'll be fine as long as you rest and drink a lot of water. Here.” Merlin helped Gwaine raise his neck carefully.

“You sure you don't have any ale in here?”

“You lost a lot of blood, Gwaine,” Merlin scolded. “Come on, drink it. That's it, you're doing good. Now keep still.”

“Just be sure that you don't shave any more than you have to. How am I supposed to charm the ladies without my locks?”

Merlin smiled at that, though his brow was furrowed as he leaned over to pull some of the Knight's plastered hair out of the way before shaving the rest with a sharp blade. “I'm sure you'd charm them bald, if it came to that.”

“I didn't know you had so much faith in my flirting prowess, Merlin,” Gwaine smirked, swallowing with difficulty. “You sound as if you talk from experience. Have I won your heart?”

Arthur's hands curled in fists. Merlin did not seem to have spotted him right there, too focused on his task to pay attention to his surroundings. Arthur could not help but be annoyed by the fact that Merlin had forgotten about him once again.

Merlin chuckled at Gwaine's question. His tone was teasing as he answered. “As much as it pains me to disappoint you, not everyone's prey to your bait.”

“Only if they've already took another's.” Gwaine frowned. “It this it, then? Is your heart already taken?”

Arthur's nostrils flared and he put his hands over his thighs, preparing to stand up and flee, even if he knew he would never leave before hearing Merlin's answer.

“Yes, I guess you can say so,” Merlin said and Arthur closed his eyes shut, cursing inside.

He should have guessed Merlin would've already moved on. It was not as if Arthur was in any position to impose that his manservant kept faithful to him when he himself had taken a wife. He was so disappointed and angry he almost did not hear the rest of their conversation.

“By whom, pray tell!” Gwaine sounded eager to know.

“By my work!” Merlin said and Arthur looked up at him again, momentarily confused. “I pledged my very soul to this job, since I hardly have any time to do anything else.”

“So you're telling me your King owns your heart and your very soul.” Gwaine was facing the other side, so he could not have seen Arthur there either.

Utterly shocked, Arthur held his breath as he waited for Merlin's reaction.

“As does my Queen,” Merlin stated after a brief hesitation, his voice unwavering.

“Ha! I knew it! It's Queen Guinevere, isn't it? If only His Highness could listen to this, he'd chop your head off for daring to compete with him.”

Merlin scoffed, cleaning the blade with a cloth before grabbing a needle. “'Cause he wouldn't stand a chance against me.”

“Exactly. You're clearly the best man out of the two of you; surely Gwen would chose you. I certainly would, in her place.”

Arthur got on his feet then, causing the stool to scrape the floor. Merlin looked over his shoulder, holding the needle in the air, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at spotting him. They held each other's gaze for an endless moment as Arthur fought not to let his anger show.

“It's alright, Sire,” he heard Gaius' voice at his back and turned to face the physician. “Merlin knows what he's doing. He's done this countless of times before. Leon's fine too, he's lucky the spear didn't cut his artery. He's resting now and you should do so yourself, Sire. We'll let you know when Merlin's finished with Gwaine.”

Arthur looked beyond Gaius' shoulder to where Leon was lying with one arm thrown over his eyes and noticed the others had left too. “Of course,” he said, clearing his throat, then turning back on Merlin. “I shall be waiting for you when you're done here, however late it is.”

Arthur spun on his heels and left.

He was surprised to find Guinevere waiting for him in his old chambers, looking down at the Square. She turned at hearing the door and Arthur paused. His first instinct was to run to her and hold her, but he feared that she might recoil if he did that, so he kept still and waited for her to move first.

Guinevere's brow was furrowed and her eyes were searching, but the way she fidgeted with her necklace gave away her uneasiness as she took a few steps forward. “I hear Leon and Gwaine got hurt. How are they?”

Arthur blinked, disappointed. He had thought she had come for him, not for his men. He looked down at his sword belt as he unbuckled it, walking slowly towards the changing screen, keeping a safe distance between them. “They'll be fine. Merlin and Gaius are taking good care of them.”

She kept silent while he hanged up his belt and cast his gloves away, turning his back on her as he removed his vambraces.

“I miss you.”

Arthur froze for a moment at hearing her soft words. He knew he should be understanding and patient, but he was too hurt to be any of that. “It was you who pushed me away,” he accused, coldly.

“I never asked you to leave you own chambers,” she said, sounding more firm, but clearly distressed.

Arthur turned to face her. “What did you expect me to do? You just laid there and looked away, ignoring me, even when–” he cut himself off, the words getting stuck in his throat. He looked away, incapable of seeing the tears gathering in her eyes as her lips curved downwards. “It was like you weren't even there. How could I be with you, how could I touch you like this?”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered and then sobbed. “If anyone had to leave, it should have been me. I shaw move to my own chambers, as I should have done from the beginning.”

“I don't want you to go anywhere. I'm perfectly fine here.” Arthur turned his back on her, fearing that he would start crying as well.

They had agreed from the beginning that they would share the same chambers, despite there being separate rooms for each of them, as it was how things used to work with royal couples. Arthur was supposed to have his own privacy so that he could have anyone he wanted in his bed and feel free to visit the Queen's chambers whenever he pleased. Only Arthur was not good with traditions. He wanted his marriage to be real and honest. They were to live as one and be faithful and supportive of each other, no matter what they were going through. And yet, look where that had taken them.

He heard Guinevere stepping closer to him. “I know I'm making you suffer, even though it's not your fault,” Guinevere continued, her voice wavering. “I wish it could be different; I wish I could let it all go and be with you without... without thinking...” She sobbed again.

Arthur waited for her to finish that sentence, but it soon became clear that she never would. He turned to face her again. “What do you want from me, Guinevere? What do you want me to do? Anything. Just name it and I'll do it,” he insisted, even though she was already shaking her head with tears running down her face.

Arthur suddenly remembered the way she had cried before being banished from Camelot. He felt as if a knife had been stuck into his guts and twisted.

“I want–” She swallowed and tried again, looking down on her hands. “I don't want you to suffer because of me.”

“You cannot ask that of me–”

“You said I could ask you anything,” Guinevere interrupted him, straightening her spine. “You said you'd do anything I asked of you.” She wiped the tears from her eyes as Arthur gritted his teeth, holding the borders of the table to stop himself from lashing out on her. “I want you to feel free to take another woman into your bed.”

“I don't _want_ another woman!” Arthur said and he stepped up to her, but she took two steps back. “I want you, Gwen!”

It was no lie. Only it was not the whole truth either.

“I already said it,” she insisted firmly, holding back the tears. “I will not repeat myself and I won't take it back either. I'll never ask you who they are nor how many. I don't want you to feel guilty as you do it. And before you say it, I know what we agreed before, but things have changed now. Perhaps it was always supposed to be like this, only we didn't want to believe it. It's not fair to hold you to that promise when I cannot even be a wife to you anymore–” Her voice broke in the end and she covered her mouth as she sobbed.

“Gwen...” Arthur tried again, but she spun on her heels and run to the door. “Guinevere!” he rushed forward, but she was already half through the corridor when he got out of the room.

Arthur saw when she run past Merlin on her way, hiding her face from him.

Merlin looked like he was about to follow her, but then he looked back at him. “Arthur!” He rushed towards his master. “What happened?”

Arthur looked back at the guards, standing alert to obey him. He looked at Merlin's concerned face then and walked back into his room. He kept his back to the door as he fumbled with the rest of his armor, hearing Merlin's quiet steps behind him, then feeling his gentle hands on his arm as he took over the task.

“It doesn't make any sense,” Arthur said when he was sure his voice would not falter. “We were happy, just the two of us. I was happy. And I told her so. We could have lived years like this before worrying about having a child.”

Merlin removed his chain mail as he replied softly. “The matters of the heart hardly make any sense.”

“Are you sure it's not magic that's made her act like this?” Arthur asked. He could not think of a sensible reason for Guinevere to push him away. “What does Gaius have to say about it?”

“We've ruled that possibility out long ago. Arthur–”

Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm and looked right into his eyes. “There must be something you can do. You're Gaius apprentice, you've been studying his work for so many years now. I saw how you tended to Gwaine's wounds just now–”

“I wish there was anything I could do, Arthur.” Merlin's eyes were honest and showed nothing but grief. “I really wish there was. I would do anything.”

Arthur let go of Merlin, then. “Well, not anything, no.” He sounded bitter to his own ears.

“Arthur...” Merlin took a step forward and Arthur acted by instinct, pulling him by the waist and pushing his back against the nearest bedpost, pressing himself into his manservant's body.

“Merlin...” He breathed next to Merlin's lips, looking down at them, watching as they parted in surprise. “I need you.”

“Arthur...” Merlin swallowed. “I can't. I just can't.”

“But you can!” Arthur insisted, grabbing fistfuls of his clothes and twisting it as he nuzzled into Merlin's neck, taking advantage of the absence of his scarf there. “I know you want to; I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching you.”

“Arthur, please...” Merlin pleaded, then gasped when Arthur run his lips over Merlin's collarbone.

“I want you so much, I couldn't stand you bending over Gwaine like that as he so openly _flirted_ with you.” Arthur shook Merlin into the bedpost with little to none gentleness, shutting up whatever he was about to say. “And don't try to deny it. I was right there. I heard everything he said to you.”

“It's nothing like that, Arthur. You know it.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, shaking him again. “Do I?”

Merlin grabbed Arthur fists, his face hardening. “If you heard him, then you heard me as well. There's been no one else.”

“Then why won't you–”

“Because I can't!” Merlin snapped. “Gwen's your wife! She's my Queen! And before all that, she's my friend!”

“And I'm YOUR KING and I COMMAND you to do it!”

Merlin's eyes flashed with anger. Arthur was so shocked by that sight he did not react when Merlin forced him to move back with more strength than Arthur could ever imagine he possessed. Arthur prepared for the blow, but it never came. Merlin fell on his knees with a muffled sound and started to untie Arthur laces roughly.

Arthur had a vision then of his servant lying on that very floor in a pile of limbs, crying, with his breeches down and his dignity torn into pieces, and he found that he could not live with one more mistake like that one. Arthur could never change the past, but he could spare one more regret. He grabbed Merlin by his armpits and brought him to his feet, then shoved him away. “Get out of my sight!”

His shout echoed in the walls as Merlin smoothed the front of his tunic, now wrinkled from Arthur twisting the fabric around. His eyes were glistening when he left, but not with sympathy nor pity; just plain, blatant hurt.

Arthur punched the bedpost and growled like a wounded animal. When the rage finally gave way to regret, he fell into his bed and gave in to the tears.

.Merlin.

Arthur did not wait for Merlin to bring his breakfast, the next day. He dressed himself and wandered at the castle, nodding to the guards as he walked past them. He stopped at a deserted corridor, looking out at the training ground, where some of the aspiring Knights trained. He lost himself in thoughts while he observed fight after fight, finding their strong points and weaknesses, guessing who might become the next Knight amongst them. He did not hear the approaching steps until they faltered at his back.

Arthur knew it was Merlin for the long-suffering sigh he let out. He could picture his servant walking up and down the castle, searching for him, asking every passing sentinel.

“How are Leon and Gwaine?” Arthur asked.

“They're fine, My Lord.” Merlin's voice was strong, if a little cold. “They just need to rest and they'll be as good as new.”

Arthur heard the intake of breath that meant Merlin was about to say something of importance, so he made sure of not giving him the chance to. “Did you know there are people coming from every corner of the Earth to prove their value to my men, hoping they could be part of my army?”

Merlin breathed out at his back. “Yes, My Lord.”

“The Knights of the Round Table, they call us. They heard of us from across the seas, they say.”

Merlin took his time to answer, but his voice was softer when he next spoke. “It is you they come seeking, Sire. They heard of how fine a King you are and that you don't care for their bloodline as long as they can prove their worthy.”

“Not all of them come for this, Merlin,” Arthur looked over his shoulder to his manservant. “Many come just for glory or for even more nefarious purposes.” He looked back to the training ground when he heard renewed shouting and clang of sword. “My councilors said I should keep my distance from the field while they train. They say it's to spare me of the trouble, but I know it's so they don't risk me growing fond of the new ones until they were tested enough. They know I have a tendency to believe in the best of people and they learned it from experience. You know how often I found myself trusting the wrong people, but I was never wrong about trusting you. I know I can keep my faith in your honor even when I fail with my own. You're my one true friend, Merlin. I can't bear to lose you.”

Arthur had said those words before. Unlike the last time, though, he did not intend to take them back nor turn them into a joke. He heard nothing but the noises of the battle down below for a long while.

“You won't lose me, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded, relieved, still keeping his back to Merlin. He licked his own lips. “You said once you'd be mine for as long as I'd have you.”

“Arthur–” he heard the exasperation on Merlin's tone and cut him off right away, lest he did not get to finish all he had to say.

“I understand. I chose to marry Guinevere. I knew what it would mean and I chose her anyway.”

“And I'm glad you did, you know I am.”

“I know, Merlin. I know.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “You are a... remarkably honorable man, Merlin. I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. I won't force you again. I give you my word.”

Merlin did not say a thing to that. Arthur waited as long as he could before turning around. Merlin averted his eyes, looking as if he was struggling with something. Arthur brought his hand to Merlin's neck and shook it in a friendly way, smiling when Merlin looked up at him.

Merlin chuckled, blinking and taking a deep breath to stop the tears. “Thank you, Sire,” he said at last.

“Now where's my breakfast?”

Merlin glared at him. “Back in your room! I couldn't find you, so–”

“You've found me now. Go fetch it. Bring it to the Council Chambers and then call Elyan, Percival and the others. We have some things to discuss.”

Merlin curtsied. “Right away, Sire.”

Arthur watched him walk down the corridor until he rounded the next corner. He sighed then, feeling dreary and grieving, realizing that for the first time in many years he did not have Merlin nor Guinevere, even if he still had both of them. It felt lonely like never before.

.Merlin.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point it might seem there’s a threesome coming, but I can assure you that’s not going to happen.

Gwaine was still a bit weak, but he was too stubborn to keep still for too long. Leon had to walk with a crutch, but it didn’t stop him from attending their meetings at the Council Room. Arthur was glad to have anything to occupy his mind, even if it were to sit at the Throne Room for an entire day and listen to petty quarrels about farm animals and land trespassing. Guinevere sat by his side at those occasions and she always knew the right questions to ask to know what was the true reason behind the disagreements.

Sometimes, Arthur thought he caught her scrutinizing him with something close to disapproval, but she always averted her eyes before he could draw any final conclusions. He also noticed she followed Merlin's every move whenever he was in the room. Arthur was intrigued, but he never had the chance to ask anything, for there was always someone close by and she was the first to leave the room, as if dreading to be left alone with him.

Arthur had dinner with his Knights and took the opportunity to eye the serving girls after Guinevere retired for the night. For more that he longed to have someone to share his bed, there was always something off with them: this one was too shy; that other was too talkative; this one did not appeal to him; that other had an annoying laugh; and so on and so forth. Even if he found someone attractive enough, it was too risky, too much effort. He was not in the mood to woo and to deal with the insecurities of the youngest nor the seduction games of the most experienced; he craved something familiar and comforting and to the point.

Arthur sighed as his eyes followed Merlin, who was pouring some wine to Percival and laughing at something he was saying. Merlin's eyes found his as if he had a way of knowing he was being observed and he suppressed his smile by pressing his lips together, accentuating his dimple. Arthur watched Merlin walk back to him.

“More wine, Sire?”

“Sure. Why not?” Arthur held his cup up.

.oOo.

Arthur woke up with a light caress on his hair. He sighed and shifted until he was settled more comfortably on his pillow. He had a headache and his eyes were hurting from the early morning brightness filtering through the curtains, but he was reluctant to wake up. For a moment, he thought he was back at the Royal Chambers with Guinevere stroking his hair as he dozed off. Suddenly, he remembered where he was and why and raised his head. He startled to see Guinevere there, sitting by the edge of the mattress, holding her hand in the air and assessing him with caution.

“Guinevere.” Arthur sat up in his bed. He looked around; he was still in his old chambers, the sun was barely up and the table was settled with breakfast for two, but Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

“Merlin will be back soon,” Guinevere said, observant. “I asked him to give us some time to talk.”

Arthur rubbed face with his hands, trying to wake up some more. He frowned at his wife, then. “Did something happen?”

He did not want to let any hope in, so he assumed the worst. Was she leaving him? Was she regretting marrying him in the first place?

Guinevere settled her hands in her lap and looked down at them, licking her lips. “I overheard you talking to Merlin early this week, at the southern corridor,” she said.

Arthur frowned some more until he remembered. His eyes widened at comprehending what that meant, his heart skipping a beat. “Oh.”

“I didn't intend to,” Guinevere continued. “I couldn't sleep, so I waited until the sun was up and went for a walk around the castle. I like to watch the training from up there too, so I was at the opposite side of the corridor when you arrived. I guess you didn't notice I was there, hidden between two columns and I didn't want you to see me, so I just kept quiet, watching you from a distance. But then Merlin came and–”

“Gwen–” Arthur started, even though he was not sure what to say next. He could not remember exactly what he had said to Merlin, but Guinevere wasn't a fool; she would have guessed what it meant, even if he had not been too specific.

She didn’t allow him to speak, anyway. “Please, listen,” she asked, looking into his eyes with a fierce expression. “I have thought about it this whole week. I confess I was hurt at first, knowing that you kept this from me this whole time.”

“Guinevere,” Arthur tried again, unable to stop himself, “nothing happened since we got married.”

“I know!” Guinevere shouted and Arthur cringed. She closed her eyes then, looking away from him. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I talked to Merlin last night, after he put you to bed. I don't think you remember much, you were quite drunk. I helped him carry you here and I cornered him.” She snorted. “It was hard for me to get him to talk. He wouldn't say a word, even after I told him I knew everything; even when he was clearly suffering from keeping it from me. He's too loyal to you, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed as he sat beside her by the edge of the mattress, keeping some distance between them. He rested his elbows on his thighs and run his hands through his hair, feeling his head throb even more. _That's it_ , he thought. _I lost her for good, now._

“I shouldn't be so surprised, really,” Guinevere continued with a practical and detached voice. “He was always devoted to you and you... I know you care about him dearly. I should have seen it before. Perhaps I have, I only didn't want to acknowledge it until now. I've heard you call his name in your sleep more than once, always in such an intimate way, but yet I refused to acknowledge it for what it was.”

“What?” Arthur asked, surprised. Had he been saying Merlin's name in his sleep? Just by remembering some of his dreams, Arthur felt his face flush with embarrassment and guilt.

“As I said,” Guinevere was still refusing to look at him, “I felt betrayed at first, but... I don't have any right to be, have I? After all I made you go through with Lancelot, yet you forgave me and accepted me back! I was prepared to see you with other women, why not him, instead? If I am to share you with someone, I'm happy that it's with him.”

“You don't have to share me with anyone, Guinevere. You're my wife, I chose to marry you. If you would just–”

“Please, Arthur, say no more. I'm not ready yet. I still have much to work out on my own.”

Arthur looked down at his feet, massaging his temples. “You're wasting your time with all this. Merlin won't let me touch him.”

“I know that too.” She nodded. “That's why I talked to him. I said how much you need him; I can't see why he would refuse to come and rescue you now,” she meant it as a joke, but her laugh sounded forced.

Arthur snorted. “You underestimate his sense of honor. He won't betray you.”

“It's not betraying if I'm aware and consenting, is it?”

“I don't think he knows the difference.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded after some consideration. “Perhaps you're going to have to work harder to convince him, but I can't help you with that. All I know is I won't stand in your way. I can't stop you from being happy just because I can't feel any joy.”

Arthur reached for her hand in an instinctive move, feeling his heart constrict at that. “Gwen–”

For a moment, he thought she would pull away, but then she relaxed and put her other hand over their joined ones, offering him a wavering smile. “It isn't going to be like this forever. I just need some more time.” Despite her reassuring words, she did not sound so certain of it herself.

“Promise you won't push me away,” Arthur said. “Promise you'll at least talk to me. I'm not just your husband, I'm your friend too.”

Guinevere smiled sadly then nodded. “I can promise that.”

Arthur hesitated before pushing her into an embrace and she sniffed as she rested her head on his chest. Arthur kissed her forehead and caressed her shoulders, saying soothing words.

It did not take long for Merlin to show up when she was gone. Arthur was already half-dressed, sitting at the edge of the bed to put on his boots when Merlin knocked on the open door, looking around.

“You didn't touch your breakfast,” he stated, looking concerned.

“I didn't have the time,” Arthur said, getting up and grabbing an apple from the plate. He showed it to Merlin then took a bite. “I have something to ask of you.”

He had thought about what Guinevere said earlier, about Merlin needing convincing. Perhaps she was right, perhaps Arthur wasn’t working hard enough. Merlin probably thought Arthur was just after taking his own pleasure from him now that he didn’t have Guinevere's willing body, and who could blame him for it? It was not as if Arthur had done something to prove otherwise. All he had done so far was use Merlin for his own physical relief, he had never showed him how special he really was to Arthur.

Merlin hesitated before stepping up to him. “Of course, My Lord.”

“I need you to pack this up,” Arthur pointed to the still full tray over the table, “and prepare the horses. We're going on a picnic.”

“Oh,” Merlin's eyes widened and he looked hopeful. “Is Gwen coming as well?”

Annoyed by his servant's optimism, Arthur averted his eyes, rolling the apple around his fingers. “No. Just the two of us.” He took another bite as he looked out the window.

“But... Sire, you have a meeting with-”

“Cancel it,” Arthur cut him off, looking at him sharply, daring him to question him. “Cancel all my appointments for today.”

Merlin looked about to argue, but he puffed and turned on his heels.

.oOo.

“Did you and Gwen talk at all?” Merlin asked as he followed with his horse one step behind Arthur's.

Arthur did not care to look at Merlin, searching for the right spot as they climbed a hill. “Yes.”

“So you know she overheard us the other day?” Merlin sounded unsure.

“Yes, I know.”

Arthur's horse snorted and a bird chirped next to them as they moved forward; the constant sound of their horses hooves was comforting and soothing to his ears.

“Are you mad at me?” Merlin finally asked.

“Why would I be mad at you, Merlin?” Arthur feigned ignorance, wondering how much of it Merlin would take before snapping.

“Because I... talked too much?” Merlin offered, hesitant. “I mean, I did not tell her anything she hadn't already guessed, but...”

“I'm not mad at you.” Arthur pointed to a clearing near a cliff, from where they could see Camelot from above. “There.”

They dismounted and Merlin began to unload his horse while Arthur looked around, taking in the view. The day was clear and bright, but the air was fresh with a chill that hinted of the Autumn to come.

“Have you two worked things out, then?” Merlin tried again.

Arthur looked over his shoulder to find Merlin spreading a blanket over the most leveled spot on the grass. He considered the question for a while. “Some of it, yes.”

Merlin frowned. “Will you be moving back to the Royal Chambers, then?”

Arthur assessed his servant for a moment. He could not tell if Merlin was hoping for him to say yes or fearing it. Arthur wished he could tell what was going on in his servant's mind, but at least he didn’t seem to be the only one wishing that, if the way Merlin assessed him back was something to go by.

“No,” Arthur answered. “I'll be staying in my old chambers. Nothing's changed between Guinevere and me.”

Merlin seemed conflicted at that. He looked down at the basket of food he had just set on the spread blanket and got to his feet. “All set.”

Arthur took off his sword belt and sat down on the blanket, placing it beside him. He looked up at Merlin then, who turned his face away, moving to the nearest tree trunk.

“Where are you going?” Arthur asked, disguising his amusement with annoyance.

“Erm...” Merlin pointed to the tree. “Over there?”

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him then patted the spot next to him. “Come here, Merlin.”

Merlin's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, but closed it next. He batted his hands on his clothes as if cleaning them before sitting down next to Arthur, keeping some distance between them.

Arthur pretended not to notice his servant’s hesitance as he searched around the basket for some cheese. He took a hunk of it and motioned for Merlin to do the same. “Have something to eat.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes at him, searching for some trap. Arthur could not blame him for it; he had tricked Merlin into thinking he was being nice before.

“Come on,” Arthur insisted. “There's more than enough for two.”

Merlin hesitated some more before finally picking up some blueberries and throwing them into his mouth. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offered.

Arthur snorted at that. “You still haven't figured it out, have you?”

Merlin was about to throw another berry into his mouth when he lowered his hand, watching it, as if searching for anything unusual on the fruit. He eyed Arthur then, questioningly.

Arthur moved the basket from between them and then shifted to sit closer to his servant. “Here,” Arthur took the fruit from Merlin's hand and held it close to the other man’s mouth expectantly. “Come on, open up.”

Merlin simply glared at him and Arthur felt stupid as he rolled his eyes. “Just open up your damn mouth already.”

It was Merlin's turn to snort. “Now that's the Arthur I know. I was beginning to worry.”

“Shut up,” Arthur said grumpily and threw the berry into his own mouth instead, averting his eyes.

He was starting to think he had made a mistake by assuming Merlin would like to be wooed. It was not as if he was a woman, after all. Things had always been so uncomplicated between them, perhaps that was how it was meant to be.

Then again, Arthur did not disliked all the tender moments he had had with Guinevere. Maybe Merlin simply wasn’t used to it yet. He hadn’t had many experiences with open affection, after all.

“Why are you doing this?” Arthur heard Merlin's soft question.

Arthur looked at his servant and found him following and ant’s errant path with the pad of his finger. “Doing what?” he asked.

Merlin sighed and picked up a leaf that had fallen next to him. “What you want from me, you can get from any other. Why waste so much effort with me?”

“I don't want anybody else. I want you.” Arthur insisted and watched Merlin let out a dismissive laugh, shaking his head. “You don't believe me.”

“Alright, so you want me. I told you I can't, then why can't you just move on?” He sounded annoyed.

Arthur felt angry at that. “ _You_ don't want me, is that it?”

Merlin huffed and grunted, but did not say a word in reply. Arthur stood up on his knees and kissed his servant on the lips, startling him.

Merlin pulled away. “Arthur, please, don't.”

“What's stopping you now?” Arthur snapped. “Guinevere already said she doesn't mind-”

“She never said she doesn't mind. She said it’d be the lesser of two evils. There’s quite a difference. Besides, you’ll work things out with her, eventually, and then…” Merlin trailed off, looking away.

“And then what?” Arthur pressed, trying not to lose his temper.

“Arthur, now you’re just being cruel!” Merlin sounded exasperate. “You’re not stupid, so you must know how I feel by now! I know what we used to have meant nothing to you, and I don't expect you to understand it, but I don't believe I can go through having you and losing you all over again! There, you wanted me to say it, now I have!” He finished angrily and he was about to get up when Arthur pulled him down again.

“You really don't get it, do you?”

“Let me go, Arthur,” Merlin pulled away from his hand, but Arthur positioned himself in front of his servant to prevent him from getting on his feet.

“Easy,” Arthur said and moved slowly as he raised a hand to cup Merlin's chin. He picked a tear with his thumb and smeared it around Merlin's cheek, watching it with open amazement. “Let me show it to you.” He leaned in again and kissed Merlin's cheek softly, testing it. It felt thrilling and defying, like something forbidden, but most of all it felt right and left his heart racing just from the simplest of touches.

Merlin gasped and closed his eyes, allowing more tears to fall down. “You said you wouldn't,” he whispered brokenly. “You gave me your word.”

Arthur nuzzled at his cheek then kissed a tear track. “I said I wouldn't force you. I never said I wouldn't try and change your mind.” He touched his forehead to Merlin's and breathed against his mouth. “Tell me to stop,” he dared. “Tell me and I'll stop at once.”

Merlin swallowed, keeping his eyes shut. Arthur was frozen from the fear of it for a moment, but the denial never came. He kissed the corner of Merlin's lips then, and again, only this time Merlin turned his head towards him and kissed him back timidly. His lips were soft and salty from the tears. There was the slightest hint of stubble on his upper lip and his mouth was soft and welcoming. His breath smelled of blueberries.

Arthur moved his hand from Merlin's face to his nape and brought him closer as he leaned forward, forcing Merlin to lean back.

“Arthur…” Merlin broke the kiss to look around them, seeming concerned. “Have you lost your mind? Anyone could walk in on us here.”

“It's alright,” Arthur assured, lowering his own body over Merlin's. “We’ll see anyone approaching before they see us.”

Arthur was achingly hard, but he did not do anything more than kiss Merlin's lips, his face, his neck, stroke his skin and his hair lightly.

“Want me to stop yet?” He asked at some point, when they were both panting from desire.

Merlin shook his head and pulled him in for another kiss filled with longing. Arthur was about to burst from the simple pleasure of it. Merlin stroked Arthur's arms and his hair as well, murmuring something like a prayer.

Arthur backed up enough to reach out for Merlin’s waist belt. Merlin’s chest was heaving as he panted, his breeches tenting quite indecently. Arthur removed Merlin’s belt and took off his scarf and his tunic, tossing them away. He watched Merlin’s chest for a moment, trying to figure out what was different with his servant’s well known body. Merlin had grown some more chest-hair and his shoulders were broader, filled with more prominent muscles, as were his arms. Arthur run his hands up Merlin’s stomach and thumbed at Merlin’s nipples, watching him gasp as they hardened. Arthur knew Guinevere liked when he played with her nipples; she would get all wet for him whenever he dispensed them some attention before getting down to business. Maybe Merlin was not so different, after all.

He bend over Merlin and enclosed his right nub between his lips as if kissing it. He felt Merlin’s sharp intake of breath and looked up to see him gaping down at him. Arthur did it again, this time scratching Merlin’s sensitive skin with his teeth. Merlin let out a startled gasp and bucked his hips up when Arthur sucked the offended nipple.

Merlin moaned and squirmed below Arthur as he kept going, each and every sound and movement making Arthur harden some more. Merlin tried to reach for his King’s laces, but Arthur held his wrists down on the blanket and proceeded to give the same treatment to the other nipple. Merlin’s skin was marked when Arthur finally let go of his wrists, reaching into Merlin’s breeches and pulling them down to stroke his servant’s leaking cock.

Merlin’s neck and face were flushed and he shouted as he spilled his seed all over himself. His eyes were round with amazement when he was done, his cock still twitching between Arthur’s fingers.

Arthur was shaking with need, but he pulled himself together as he leaned back over Merlin, careful not to let his own clothes touch the mess over the other man’s chest. He breathed into Merlin's neck to gather his composure back, resting his forehead on Merlin’s jaw, taking in his scent of cheap soap, semen and sweat.

“It did mean something to me back then,” Arthur said when his breathing evened enough. “It still does. How can I prove this to you? How can I make you believe it?”

He heard Merlin take a deep and shaky breath. “I want to believe.”

Arthur raised his head to look at him, searching his face. “You don’t, though.”

“You love Gwen.” Merlin's voice was deep and heavy with feelings.

Arthur sighed, easing himself off of him and stretching up by his side. His cock was throbbing and the wind was cool on the wet spot in front of his breeches. “I wish it were as simple as you make it sound.”

“Yet you don't deny it.”

Arthur frowned, watching the leaves of the tree above them dance with the wind. He did love Guinevere, but it had never stopped him from wanting Merlin. It felt like she was not enough; he was not complete only with her, he needed more. Was it arrogance from his part? Did he think so highly of himself that one person alone could not suffice to him?

From the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin moving and turned to watch him clean his own chest with his scarf. As soon as Merlin was satisfied with it, he turned too and they were both on their sides, watching each other closely. Arthur could not name the feeling bubbling up in his chest; it felt so much more profound than desire, so much more complex than just friendship. He ached for Merlin and it never felt like it was enough. He reached out to caress Merlin’s cheek and jaw, running his thumb over his servant’s lower lip.

“I cannot promise you won’t lose me again,” Arthur said softly, “but shouldn’t we make the most of the time we have now, however fleeting it might be?”

Merlin hesitated for a moment, but it was him who moved next, attaching his lips to Arthur’s. He caressed Arthur’s face reverently, then run his hand down Arthur’s still dressed chest until he found Arthur’s breeches, efficiently working his laces open. Arthur grunted against Merlin’s lips when the man’s hand closed around his shaft, stroking him sure and firmly. Somewhere in the back of his mind Arthur knew he was gripping Merlin’s waist hard enough to bruise, but he was too far gone to let go and he gasped into Merlin’s mouth as he was overtaken by sheer pleasure, spilling into Merlin’s hand and stomach, as well as the sheet below them.

Merlin worked him through all of it, easing up his grip as Arthur shed the last drop, humming contently. Arthur did not realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them again, finding Merlin watching him with hooded eyes.

“Have I convinced you at last?” Arthur could not help teasing.

Merlin licked his lips before answering. “I still think I’m going to regret this, but I’ll take what I can get for now.” His tone was light, but his eyes were sad.

Arthur kissed him one last time - just because he could - before sitting up and taking a deep breath as he fixed his clothes back in place. He heard Merlin’s sigh next to him and saw him reaching for the scarf to wipe himself clean again.

“Are we heading back now?” Merlin asked as he sat up too, reaching for his tunic and putting it on.

Arthur took Merlin’s belt from out of his reach before he could put it on again. “Are you late for something?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No, but…” Merlin frowned. “I thought-”

“You thought I’d rush back now that I have finally had my way with you.”

Merlin blinked. “Well…”

Arthur huffed an offended exclamation, throwing Merlin’s belt into the nearest bush.

“Hey!” Merlin shouted, indignant.

“You won’t be needing it now, Merlin,” Arthur said and pulled the basket of food closer, reaching into it. “How about some bread?”

Merlin gaped at him for a moment, seeming a bit wary, but he eventually accepted the offered piece of bread and took a ferocious bite. “What?” He asked around a mouthful of it before Arthur’s reproachful look. “I’m starving.”

“I can see that.” Arthur mocked. “Go on, eat what you like. I need you well fed to what I plan to do with you later.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “And here I was thinking you were concerned for my well being.”

Arthur snorted. “I have so much to worry about with a whole Kingdom depending on me, why should I trouble myself for so little?”

Merlin sent him an annoyed look.

Arthur nudged him with his shoulder. “Want some cheese to go with that? I saved you some.”

“Whyever not?” Merlin shrugged, but Arthur could see a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips before he looked away.

.Merlin.

It was astonishing how quick they settled into their old routine of bickering and sharing intense intimate moments. It was so different from what Arthur had with Guinevere, yet so fulfilling. He still missed the sweet, tender moments he shared with his wife in bed, though, and thus he tried to keep Merlin in his arms as much as he could.

“It’s too early,” Arthur mumbled in the middle of the night when he woke up to Merlin untangling himself from Arthur’s arms.

“Gaius’ll get worried if I’m not there by morning,” Merlin said, searching for his clothes.

“I’ll personally give him some excuse,” Arthur said, pulling Merlin back to bed and manhandling him until they were chest to chest, his face tucked into Merlin’s neck, one leg finding its way between Merlin's.

“Arthur…” Merlin half reproached, half sighed in resignation.

“I might find some use for you again in the morning,” Arthur mumbled into Merlin’s skin, his body responding to the warmth of Merlin’s thigh shamelessly. “Or sooner.”

“Arthur!” Merlin sounded exasperated then and Arthur raised his head to stare at him in the dimn moonlight filtering through the drapes.

“What? You don’t want to stay?” He asked, dreading the answer.

Merlin sighed again. “People might start to suspect.”

Arthur breathed out in relief after that, nuzzling into his neck again, settling more comfortably into his arms and ignoring his own erection. “Let them. Go back to sleep. We’ll work something out in the morning.”

He felt Merlin’s gentle caress at his nape as he dozed off again.

.oOo.

If people indeed suspected of their intimate arrangement, they never said a word about it to Arthur. Gaius accepted his excuses for Merlin’s prolonged absence without question and the guards at his chambers never looked at him differently after watching Merlin enter his room in the evening and stay until near dawn to fetch his breakfast or later yet, when Arthur kept him until his other, more pressing physical needs were tended first.

“Ouch!” Arthur said when Merlin hit his ribs with his sharp elbow as he shifted in bed.

“Sorry,” Merlin said and then giggled shamelessly.

“You think it’s funny, huh?” Arthur said, pressing his mouth into the curve of Merlin’s neck as he fitted his naked body into Merlin’s also naked back.

“Well, it serves you right,” Merlin said over his shoulder, still sounding amused. “I don’t know how Gwen survived sleeping with you all this time without suffocating under your crushing weight.”

“Are you calling me fat again?”

“No, I’m calling you overbearing. You can’t even stop yourself from imposing your sovereignty in bed, marking your territory, making sure to be on top every damned second!”

Arthur moved from above him, allowing him to turn around to face him. “That’s… rubbish! Not that it concerns you, but she was on top fairly often and I quite liked when she did.”

Merlin seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. “Of course. And you’re absolutely right, it surely does not concern me.”

Arthur eyed him suspiciously. “You know, if you wanted to be on top, all you had to do was ask.”

Merlin shrugged. “I’m just making a point; it’s not like I don’t enjoy you getting all territorial over me.”

“I’m not a dog or anything of the likes.”

“I never said you were.”

Arthur flopped into the bed on his back. “Alright, you do it, now. I’ll just lay here and look good while you do all the hard work.”

Merlin propped his head on an elbow, his smirk barely visible in the still quite dark room. “You think I look good when I’m under you?”

“Oh, shut up and get to work already. I want my breakfast to be served sometime before lunch time.”

Merlin got up on his knees, straddled Arthur’s hips and bit his lower lip. Arthur felt Merlin’s hands wandering over his chest and arms appreciatively before Merlin leaned forward to kiss his neck and collarbone. Arthur hummed approvingly and turned his head the other way to give him some more room to work on. Merlin seemed especially fond of Arthur’s chest muscles, grabbing and playing with his chest-hair as he pleased. Merlin run the tip of his nose down Arthur’s stomach and nuzzled the hair below his navel as he stroked Arthur’s growing erection. He caressed Arthur’s thighs and his balls with his free hand before taking him into his mouth.

Arthur sighed at the marvelous feeling of his servant’s hot, wet mouth enclosing over his sensitive skin. How he had missed this after all this time. He grabbed Merlin’s hair and just kept his hand there, trying to make him understand how much he enjoyed it.

Merlin was not in a hurry; he teased and worshiped Arthur’s cock, licking and sucking all that he could fit into his mouth, allowing the saliva to accumulate over Arthur’s entire shaft. When he moved up again, he was hard as well.

“Do you want me to turn around?” Merlin offered after noticing Arthur’s eye on him.

Arthur shook his head. “No. Come here.” He pulled Merlin down for a light kiss, holding him by the hip with one hand and reaching for Merlin’s cock with the other, giving it a few experimental tugs.

Merlin panted into his mouth and straightened up his spine, grabbing the oil from over the nightstand. He reached behind himself as he worked his fingers in quickly, holding Arthur’s cock next. He eased himself down on it as he kept his eyes fixed on Arthur’s. When his bottom met Arthur’s hips, he stood still for a while, merely breathing, his pulse strong around Arthur’s shaft.

Arthur kept stroking Merlin’s cock lazily as he waited for him to start moving, but Merlin grabbed his pulse to stop him, his chest heaving heavily as they stared at each other. Merlin brought Arthur’s hand to his own face and closed his eyes as Arthur cupped his cheek, his lips parting as he breathed. He kissed Arthur’s hand gently before bringing it down his own chest, holding it close to his heart and only then he started to rock his hips slowly, up and down.

Arthur could feel Merlin’s strong heartbeat below his palm. He stroked his servant’s left nipple with his thumb and Merlin gasped. Arthur propped himself up with his elbows and replaced his thumb with his mouth, looking up to see Merlin tossing his head back as he continued to ride him, slow and steady, the tip of his cock leaving a wet trail over Arthur’s stomach.

Merlin held Arthur’s face with both hands and forced him to look up, then. They stared at each other’s eyes for a moment before Merlin leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips.

Kissing Merlin was so good and it felt so right Arthur wondered why he had denied himself that for so long. Suddenly, he remembered waking up from an induced infatuation with Princess Vivian with Guinevere’s lips on his own. A true love’s kiss, Merlin had said at the time. Now, Arthur begun to wonder what would have happened if Merlin had kissed him, instead of Guinevere. Would the enchantment have been broken as well? Would everything have been different?

Arthur startled at realizing what he was considering. True love, really? He backed off, gasping, his eyes widening as he looked at Merlin’s.

Merlin froze over him, assessing his face intently. “What is it?”

Arthur shook his head, slowly laying back on the mattress. “Nothing. I’m close, that’s all.”

Merlin relaxed a bit, smiling. “Me too. I should probably stop now.”

Arthur frowned. “Why?”

“Because I’ll mess you all up if I keep going.” Merlin run his hands up Arthur’s chest as he said that, rocking his hips just enough to create a bit of friction.

Arthur looked down at Merlin’s cock, feeling as if he had forgotten it was there at all. It had always been the other way around: it was Arthur who messed up Merlin’s chest, be it with his own release or Merlin’s. He looked up on Merlin’s expectant face again and swallowed hard. “I don’t mind. Go on.”

Merlin did not need to be told twice. He resumed bucking his hips up and down Arthur’s shaft, reaching for his own cock and stroking it in time with his movements. His eyes were partly closed as he gasped, increasing the pace to something close to maddening, clamping down on him as he shot his release all over Arthur’s upper body.

Arthur gripped Merlin’s legs and kept him still as he bucked up into his ass at his own pace then, chasing his own climax until it was right upon him, enveloping his senses with pure, consuming spurts of pleasure. Arthur grunted and hummed as he let go of Merlin’s skin, his arms falling limp on the mattress.

When he opened his eyes again, he found Merlin’s eyes on him. Merlin was still hovering above him, his lips parted, his cock softening, the corners of his lips twitching up.

Arthur licked his own lips, feeling his face heating up. “What are you looking at?”

The corners of Merlin’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You.”

Arthur scowled. “Don’t you have better things to do? Like cleaning this mess up?” he said, looking down at his own chest, where Merlin’s seed was now cooling off. “Or bringing me my breakfast.”

Merlin’s smile dropped a bit as he rolled his eyes, but he still looked annoyingly amused as he moved from above Arthur. “Alright, I’ll be right back, just… No!” he said when Arthur brought the bed sheet up to clean his own chest. “Don’t- Argh! This sheet was clean! Now I’ll have to change the bedclothes all over again!”

“It _is_ your job, you know?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “Alas, you might as well prepare me a bath while I have my breakfast.”

“Argh!” Merlin threw his hands in the air as he got to his feet and searched for his own clothes, all traces of amusement gone.

Arthur settled more comfortably in bed and smiled to himself, sighing. He chose not to revisit his early thoughts for the sake of his own sanity, focusing instead on listening to the soft rain that had started sometime during their early morning activities.

.oOo.

That night, while Arthur feasted with his Knights to celebrate Leon and Gwaine’s full recovery, he watched as his men set up a pyramid of cups and dared Merlin to fill them all with wine without wasting a drop. They teased and punched the table noisily as Merlin concentrated on his task, ignoring their attempts to make him lose his focus. He raised the empty jar in the air when he was done, smiling and bowing before the cheering and clapping of the Knights. Arthur shook his head, but could not help a persisted smile to turn the corner of his lips up as he raised his own cup to have a sip of his wine.

He felt a touch to his left hand and looked down to see Guinevere’s hand over his own. He searched her eyes, pleasantly surprised by the unexpected caress.

Guinevere smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “He looks happy,” she said, looking at the other end of the table, where Merlin accepted the friendly tapps on his back with a shy but proud smile. “As do you.”

Arthur sobered up as he followed her gaze, trying to figure out what reaction she expected of him. Was it sadness in her smile? Was it jealousy? Should he make light of Merlin’s visible happiness, scoff at it, ridicule him to make her feel better? To assure her that his heart still belonged to her. To assure _himself_ of that? Arthur shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable at the prospect of doing any of that.

“I’m glad,” she spoke gently, caressing his hand with her thumb and Arthur looked at her face again, trying to tell if there was a trick somewhere behind her loving face.

There was a touch of sadness in the way she smiled at him, but she seemed honest enough. Incapable of putting into words the sheer gratitude he felt towards her, he brought Guinevere’s hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, allowing his lips to linger there as much as he could before lowering their joined hands again. They smiled at each other and this time her eyes shone with something close to genuine happiness - the closest to it he had witnessed in a long time. For the first time in months, Arthur felt hopeful that it would be alright again some day, if not soon.

“I love you,” he said honestly, feeling a weight being lifted from his chest.

“I know,” she whispered back, her eyes filling up with tears as she excused herself to go to bed.

When Arthur looked up again, taking a deep relieved breath, he met Merlin’s eyes and it was like something got stuck on his chest. Merlin’s brow was furrowed and he looked betrayed as he turned away, all the joy gone from his features.

Arthur cursed under his breath, rubbing his own eyes. Why everything had to be so complicated to him? Why did it always feel like he was being split in two? Would he ever be able to feel completely happy again?

.Merlin.

During the weeks that followed, Guinevere became more accessible to him. She talked more and even laughed at her husband’s attempts at humoring her. They walked together through the castle, had meals together, exchanging innocent caresses and knowing smiles.

On the other hand, when he was back to his room and to Merlin’s dedicated care for him, there was a touch of melancholy in his servant’s touches. It was hard for Arthur to be reassuring with Merlin when he did not know what to say to him; when he could not find the right words himself.

He tried to show how much Merlin meant to him the only way he knew how to express himself honestly, with his actions and his body, yet he knew he was failing miserably. Arthur persisted, nonetheless, kissing and stroking and claiming possession over every inch of Merlin’s body, if not his heart too, refusing to let him go for as long as he could.

He was holding Merlin in bed one night, his mind too filled with troubles to allow him a proper, restful sleep. He had his arm tucked under Merlin’s armpit, his nose pressed into the back of Merlin’s neck and his leg thrown over one of his, the way he was used to do by now. Despite Arthur’s inner turmoil, Merlin was fast asleep after a day full of chores for Arthur and helping Gaius with some treatments. He was breathing deeply and soundly and Arthur tried to pay attention to the soothing movement of his chest as he struggled to fall asleep.

It must have worked at some point, for Arthur startled awake in the middle of the night by a rustling of clothes nearby. He raised his head at noticing someone standing beside his bed. He was about to untangle his arm from under Merlin to reach for his sword, when he recognized Guinevere’s silhouette.

“Guinevere!” He whispered, surprised.

“Shhh!” She said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I should not have startled you like this.”

Arthur began to slide his arm from under Merlin’s to get up, but she raised her hand, stopping him.

“Don’t, please. You’ll wake him up.” She sounded distressed. “I’m leaving. I shouldn’t be here anyway.” She turned away to head out.

“Guinevere!” Arthur called her back in an urgent whisper. “Come back here, please!”

She stopped and turned back to face him, hesitating for a moment before slowly retracing her steps. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I shouldn’t have come.”

“You’re here now.” Arthur carefully disentangled himself from Merlin, making him sigh in his sleep. He sat up slowly when Merlin’s breathing evened out again. He looked up at Guinevere and patted the spot at his other side. “Want to come here?”

Guinevere bit her lower lip but complied, moving slowly to sit by his side, sliding her legs under the sheets. Arthur laid back down and stretched his arm in a clear invitation, which Guinevere took by resting her head over his chest. Arthur sighed and stroked her hair, closing his eyes at the comfortable sensation.

“I miss you,” Guinevere whispered her confession, stroking Arthur’s naked chest.

Arthur kissed the top of her head. “And I you.”

They did not say anything after that, only basking in each other’s company. After what felt like forever, Merlin shifted at his side, mumbling in his sleep as he seeked Arthur’s body heat.

“Shhh.” Arthur extended his other arm and drew him in. Merlin turned around, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder and snuggling closer.

Arthur tensed for a moment when Guinevere raised her head. She was nearly face to face with Merlin now. If she so much as extended her hand, she would notice they were both naked underneath the sheets. She studied Merlin’s sleeping frame for a moment then looked up to Arthur and smiled before resting her head back on top of his chest.

Arthur let out a relieved breath. He caressed both their shoulders, and allowed himself to relax, feeling complete for the first time in his entire life. He was reluctant to sleep, wishing this moment never ended.

.Merlin.

When Arthur woke up, Merlin was nowhere to be seen. He groped the mattress, but the sheets were cool where he had been. He looked down at Guinevere, still asleep, drooling over his chest and sighed.

He felt Guinevere shift after that and tried to remain still not to wake her, but she raised her head, blinking at him.

“Good morning,” she said, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

“Good morning indeed,” Arthur smiled at her sleepy face, feeling his heart swell at the familiar sight of her dimpling smile. “Had a nice sleep?”

“The best I had in a very long time.” She leaned in to kiss his nose and snuggled closer to him, her bare feet caressing his calf. “Where's Merlin?”

Arthur tried not to sound so worried as he answered. “I wish I knew.”

Guinevere rested her chin up in her hand to look at him. “Have we scared him away?”

“It is very likely we did.”

Guinevere frowned. “Arthur, I-”

“Don’t,” Arthur stopped her with a finger over her lips. “I’ll talk to him later. I’m happy that you came here.”

Guinevere’s brow smoothed after that. “I’m glad as well.” She bit her lower lip, looking uncertain. “I was wondering if you’d like to come back to our chambers.”

Arthur felt conflicted at that. He missed Guinevere, he really did, but going back to the Royal Chambers for good also meant-

“You do not have to stop seeing him,” Guinevere said as she sat up, seeming to have read his mind. “You don’t have to sleep there all the time. You could still come back here whenever you wanted to be with him. I will not stop you, I promise.”

Arthur sat up as well, eyeing her suspiciously. “Are you… Are you sure?”

Arthur could not believe in his own ears. Was she really offering what he thought she was offering?

Guinevere sighed, averting her eyes. “I don’t think it would be fair to Merlin, taking you from him after all that he’s sacrificed for you. Like we have no use for him anymore. He’s done nothing wrong. After all that I put you through-”

“Gwen-” Arthur started to protest, but she raised her voice as she carried on with her confession.

“-it’d be too selfish of me to punish him now that I’m finally feeling like myself again.”

“Guinevere…” Arthur said, relieved, pulling her into a hug. “I’m so glad to hear it. I mean, that you’re fine, that you’re back! As for the rest… It can be arranged later. Let’s not talk about it right now.”

When they looked at each other again, Guinevere was crying and smiling at the same time. “God, I missed you so much,” she said and kissed him.

Unable to find the right words, Arthur held her neck and leaned her back into the mattress, covering her body with his own.

.Merlin.

After wandering about the whole castle, Arthur found Merlin in the Kitchens later, laundering his clothes in a washing bin. “Merlin, where the hell have you been?” He snapped. “I’ve been searching for you the entire morning!”

Merlin shrugged after looking at him from over his shoulder. “Here and there.”

“Your Majesty!” The kitchen maids bowed several times and left silently after sending Merlin a sideways look.

Arthur cleared his throat when they were left alone, stepping closer to him and dropping the annoyed act. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t think I have the time, Sire,” Merlin said, still not looking at him, apparently focused on scrubbing a muddy sleeve. “I guess I’ll be moving your things back to the Royal Chambers today.”

Arthur sighed at noticing Merlin’s matter-of-fact tone. “Merlin…”

“You really don’t have to explain yourself to me, Arthur,” Merlin said, looking over his shoulder. “I’ve always known this day was coming. And I’m happy for you.” He turned back to the washing bin, throwing the tunic back into the now dirty water and examining another one. “I know how much you love each other and how much you were suffering from being apart.”

Arthur shifted from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to turn Merlin around and force him to look him in the eye. He wanted to answer to Merlin's statement, but it was not like he could tell him wrong.

“You won’t be moving all of my things back,” he said, instead. “Leave a few changes of clothes behind.” He watched Merlin hesitate and looked around to check that they were still alone before stepping closer, speaking next to his neck. “I might be using my old chambers more times than you think.”

“Arthur-”

“And before you say anything, it was Guinevere who suggested that I did so. You can ask her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

Arthur watched Merlin’s throat moving as he swallowed, but he did not say a word after that.

Arthur took advantage of his lack of reaction to take another step forward, pressing himself into Merlin’s back and talking into his ear. “It’s becoming quite chilly at night. I might be asking you to warm up my bed covers some evenings. Will you be granting my wish?”

Merlin’s breathing was shallow and his answer was nothing but a whisper. “Always.”

Arthur let out a huffed laugh, closing his eyes and kissing Merlin’s neck before stepping away, clearing his throat again. “You should hurry up, then. You have a lot to do today and it’s nearly noon already! I expect you to be serving my lunch at the Council Room in a moment. And do not forget to wash your dirty hands before you touch my food.”

Arthur walked past the kitchen maids as he left and smiled to himself as they pretended not to have been listening at the door.

.Merlin.

 


	8. Eight

A few weeks later, they received reports of strange activities in Ismere. There were some people who believed the fortress had been occupied once more and several people had disappeared in the vicinity. Gwaine volunteered to go investigate and Arthur arranged that he left with three score of his finest Knights, Percival included. The fact that Arthur wasn’t completely over Gwaine flirting with Merlin yet made it very easy to take that decision. As much as Merlin claimed not to be interested, the further away the Knight was from Merlin, the better.

They spent the whole day leaning against maps, planning the journey and the possible outcomes of it. After three years of peace, Arthur could sense the tension on his men’s shoulders as well as his councillor's. He noticed people at the table exchanging worried looks whenever Arthur asked who could possibly have occupied a place so isolated and cold such as Ismere. No one gave him a straightforward answer, but Arthur did not need them to voice it. He suspected he already knew who it was.

“Alright, gentlemen, I guess we have a good, solid plan,” Arthur said, straightening up and scowling at the burn on his lower back.

“Now you’re talking,” Gwaine smirked, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “We’ll leave tomorrow at first light.”

“Be careful.” Guinevere said, frowning.

Gwaine curtsied. “Always, My Lady.”

Arthur dismissed his council and stood up, searching for his servant in the room. He found Merlin animatedly chatting with Guinevere’s new maid, whose name he could not care to remember. “Merlin?”

Merlin’s head snapped up at hearing his master's call. He straightened up his spine as he stepped forward. “Yes, Sire?”

Arthur simply gestured with his head for Merlin to follow him and Guinevere out. He offered his arm for his Queen and they left the Council Chamber.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Guinevere said quietly as they walked through the corridors with their servants following a few steps behind. “It’s Morgana, isn’t it?”

Arthur sighed. “We don’t know for sure.”

“Yes, but you know about the rumors. They say she escaped Sarrum’s prison.”

“We don’t even know for sure if she has in fact been his prisoner, to begin with.”

“What other explanation is there for her disappearance all these years?”

Arthur shrugged. “Perhaps she ran away after we defeated her last. Perhaps she finally realized she can’t triumph over us.”

Guinevere did not say anything after that, but Arthur could feel her skepticism, for he himself didn’t believe it to be true. Morgana would never give up on Camelot’s throne. All those years, he knew he was waiting for her return, he was just reluctant to admit that it was finally happening.

“What the hell?” Arthur said as soon as they set foot on the Royal Chambers. He spun around to look at Merlin, who was just entering, followed by the Queen’s maid. “Merlin, what’s the meaning of this?” He pointed to the mess of dirty plates and cups over the table. “I know you to be lousy on a good day, but this is going too far! It’s about dinner time and you haven’t cleaned up after breakfast yet?”

Merlin opened his mouth to argue, but Guinevere stepped up first, addressing her maid in a soft voice. “Sefa, will you clean this up for us, please?”

The girl looked from her mistress to the King with round, frightened eyes before bowing. “Y-Yes, My Lady.” She said and started immediately.

Arthur held Merlin’s eyes and crossed his arms before his servant’s frown. “Is it how it’s going to be now? You’ll allow the new girl to do your job?”

Merlin prepared to argue again, but ended up puffing and shaking his head as he joined the maid on the tidying up.

“Arthur,” Guinevere said softly, placing a hand on his chest, forcing him to move his eyes from Merlin’s glowering face. “If I remember it correctly, you had your breakfast in your old chambers this morning, so it hardly is Merlin’s job to clear up after me. Besides, Merlin’s being following you around all day, he did not have the time to come here and see if everything was in order.”

Arthur felt a pang of guilt then for the unjustified scold on his servant, but instead of apologising, he looked back at Merlin. “Why didn’t you say a thing?”

“Why should I have to say anything in the first place?” Merlin said, averting his eyes. “You should know all this. You were there. Sire.” He amended after Sefa’s shocked expression at his tone when addressing his master and King.

Arthur should reprimand him on that, make an example of him for the new girl, but he turned around to hide his blush, suddenly remembering how Merlin had fed him grapes in bed between kisses that morning, after sucking him off.

“I have more important things to remember.” Arthur said. He found Guinevere’s knowing smile and scowled at her as he removed his cape by himself.

“Should we serve your dinner in here?” Merlin asked after helping Sefa gather the dishes.

“Yes, Merlin,” Guinevere answered, kindly. “Thank you.”

Arthur looked over his shoulder to watch as they left. He felt Guinevere’s hand on his shoulder.

“Arthur-”

“Don’t get me started,” Arthur interrupted her, moving away.

Guinevere pressed her lips together to mask her amusement. “I was just going to tell you not to get too comfortable. You might be wanting to spend this night on your old chambers again.”

Arthur growled, slumping into the bed and covering his eyes.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be a martyr,” Guinevere said, slapping his thigh. “I’m confident you won’t have the time to miss me.”

“I always miss you,” Arthur said instinctively, despite not knowing who exactly he was trying to convince here.

“Sure.” Guinevere said lightly as she sat at her dresser and removed her earrings.

They had reached an agreement that Arthur would spend some nights in his old room, specially in that time of month when he was sure not to get anything from her. Fortunately, she didn't get thoroughly depressed during her monthlies anymore, although sometimes Arthur could tell that she was disappointed and wishing to be left alone. Arthur respected that and did not take it personally when she was a bit harsh on him during those days. In fact, he was happy to move out of the Royal Chambers and into Merlin’s always welcoming arms, if he cared to be honest with himself.

That was not the only occasions Arthur and Merlin got together, though. Sometimes, Arthur would find some excuses to be delayed into one or other function until Guinevere got tired of waiting for him, just so that he had an excuse not to bother her. On other occasions, Guinevere would shoo him out of their chambers saying something about being indisposed, when in truth Arthur suspected that she had somehow caught him ogling at Merlin. He wondered if his lust was that visible in his eyes for her to notice it, but he never lost too much time musing over it, content to make the most of the borrowed time he had with his servant.

“You’ll have to be patient with Sefa,” Guinevere said, pulling him out of his contemplations as she brushed her hair. “She’s very young and she’s never been a maid before.”

Arthur snorted. “It sounds like you’ll be the one needing more patience out of the two of us. I know how it is to have a clueless servant.”

“You were lucky that it was Merlin. He’s sharp-witted and a fast learner.”

“Are you sure? Most of the time I think he’s yet to grasp the meaning of his position.”

“I was wondering if you would allow him to teach Sefa how to do her work properly.”

“I’m not sure if Merlin’s the right person for the job. I mean, he’ll probably pass on to her some of his bad habits, like talking back to his superiors.”

“Arthur.” Guinevere set the brush on the dresser and turned to face him. “I don’t think you have any reasons to be jealous of Merlin. He only has eyes for his King.”

Arthur sat up in a swift move. “Jealous? Me? What on Earth are you talking about, woman?” He asked, outraged.

“Why else wouldn’t you want Merlin to teach her? He’s a good and devoted servant. If one thing, he’ll be a good influence on her.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, falling back down on the mattress. “Fine. Do as you wish. As long as it doesn't get in the way of his chores to me.”

Guinevere smiled. “Of course.”

.oOo.

It certainly got in the way of Merlin’s chores to the King and perhaps Arthur wouldn't be so bad-tempered if it were to be the only thing in his mind, but the fact still remained that Arthur took every opportunity he had to take his frustration out on his manservant whenever he was around - which was not that much, lately.

Sefa had proven to be very slow on the learning and for more that Arthur knew it was not Merlin's fault, Arthur couldn't help but blame him for it.

“She should have learned all there is to be learned by now,” Arthur said when Merlin finally got back with his dinner - now already cold - claiming that he had being delayed by Sefa. “It’s been a month already!”

The fact that he was in his old room while Guinevere had her monthlies again was proof enough of that.

“She's... trying her best!” Merlin defended the girl, making Arthur's mood even sourer. “She's just not very good at listening, I guess. It seems like her mind's always far away.”

“I cannot blame her. She should be bored of listening to your rattle all day long.”

Merlin sighed and shook his head, holding the jar next to Arthur's cup. “More wine, Sire?”

Arthur answered by emptying his cup and placing it back at the table, where Merlin could refill it. “Perhaps it's not her fault that she can't learn. Perhaps it's you who are a bad teacher. Or maybe you’re just making excuses to spend more time with her.”

Merlin pressed his lips together, placing the jar at the table and crossing his arms. “So this is what this is all about, isn't it? I knew it couldn't be just because Gwaine went missing.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Merlin walked behind Arthur's chair and leaned over him, talking into his ear. “Let me explain it to you, then. I did not ask to teach her, I'm just doing as you and Gwen told me to.”

“It wasn't supposed to take this long!” Arthur shouted, annoyed.

“It's still not my fault!” Merlin answered in kind, moving from behind him. “I don't think it's Sefa's fault either. She means well, she's just not used to do this kind of work. I don't know what kind of life she lived before coming here, but I can tell she's never served in her life.”

“You didn't either when I first met you.” Arthur said, remembering Merlin's inability to address him properly those days. He felt a surge of fondness at the memory and had to take another sip of his wine to keep it from showing.

“True, but I was raised by my single mother in a poor village, so I had done my share of hard work before. Sefa…” Merlin frowned. “It seems like she had never needed to work before. She said she's lost her mother at a young age and was raised by her father; I wonder if her father was a noble man or something. And if he was, what's she doing here as a maid?”

Arthur shrugged. “Guinevere said she has no family now. Perhaps she was a bastard and now that her father's gone she has to make a living for herself.”

Merlin considered it for a moment before shrugging. “It is possible, I guess. She never talks much about her father.”

Arthur felt annoyed at realizing just how much they must have talked over the past few weeks, but there was no point in dwelling on this now. He pushed his plate of pork away and finished his wine before leaning back on his chair. “Well, enough talking about Sefa. I’m ready for dessert now.”

“Dessert?” Merlin asked, looking at Arthur's nearly untouched dinner. “You want me to get you anything specific, Sire?”

“Oh, I’ll be specific, if I must,” Arthur said as he got on his feet, taking a couple of step towards Merlin, pressing him into the nearest bedpost. “I want you naked and ready for me on the count of three.”

“But you've just-”

“One,” Arthur said and Merlin started to undress.

.oOo.

Arthur awoke with Merlin trying to disentangle himself from Arthur's arms. “'S too early,” Arthur mumbled, closing his arms around Merlin and taking in the scent of dry semen that clung to his skin.

“I have to bring your breakfast and help Sefa with-”

Arthur grunted, shoving Merlin out of the bed, making him tumble noisily on the floor.

“You’re as high-spirited in the morning as always, Sire,” Merlin said sarcastically as he got to his feet, searching for his clothes.

“Shut up and listen to me now,” Arthur said, raising his head to scowl at him. “You’ll bring my breakfast and nothing more. You're forbidden to talk to anyone, least of all Sefa. And that's an order.”

Merlin’s nostrils flared as he put on his breeches. “Yes, Sire. Anything else, Sire?”

Arthur stared at Merlin's chest as he moved to the basin to wash. “In fact, there is one more thing. Make sure to bring me honey to go with my bread this morning.”

Merlin put on his tunic before answering. “As you wish,” he said and left after tying his scarf in place.

Arthur turned to the side and sighed, satisfied. He must have dozed off, for he woke again with the clatter of the breakfast tray hitting the table not at all gently.

“Have I woken you, Sire?” Merlin asked in a flat tone, moving to the curtains and opening them mercilessly as Arthur grunted and covered his face with his pillow. “I'm so sorry, but I figured you'd be in a rush, since you made me run down and up again as fast as I could, ignoring everyone who tried to address me. I didn't even have the time to take my breakfast, by the way, so as not to keep your royal highness waiting. So…” He took the pillow from over Arthur's face, smiling at him devilishly. “Up you go.”

“No!” Arthur tried to grab the pillow back, but Merlin threw it away from his reach.

“Yes!” Merlin pulled the covers away, causing a chill to run over Arthur's warm naked body. “Rise and shine! You don't want to keep your honeyed bread waiting.”

Arthur sat up after those words, suddenly remembering what he had planned. “No, I wouldn't want that. Bring me my breakfast in bed, Merlin.”

Merlin assessed him with a suspicious look, but ended up obeying. Arthur settled with the remaining pillows on his back and waited for Merlin to bring his food, shaking his head to dissipate the lingering sleep.

“Good,” Arthur said when Merlin passed the tray to him. “Now sit down here with me.”

Merlin watched him as if he had gone mad. “What?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Come on, Merlin, it's not like I’ve never shared my meal with you before. Sit down already.”

Merlin complied somewhat warily, as if he was expecting him to change his mind at any moment and push him to the floor again.

Arthur took the knife from the plate and cut a slice of bread, then dip it into the pot of honey, spreading it on the bread. When he was satisfied, he offered it to Merlin. Still looking suspicious, Merlin raised his hand to take it, but Arthur shook his head.

“Open your mouth,” Arthur said and drove the bread to Merlin's waiting mouth, holding his stare. As Merlin took a bite, a drop of the thick honey dripped over his chin and Arthur moved forward to lick it clean.

“Hm,” Merlin said when Arthur was about to kiss his lips, moving his face away and wiping his chin with his thumb. “I can’t chew with you all over me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Good Heavens, Merlin, your stomach’s a bottomless pit,” he said, but smiled while taking a bite.

They ate in silence for a while, helping themselves with the food. When the bread was all gone, Merlin licked the lingering honey from Arthur’s finger and Arthur took that as an invitation to kiss his full, glistening lips. They tasted as sweet as they looked like.

Arthur broke the kiss to unbuckle Merlin’s belt and slide a hand down Merlin’s tunic, bringing it up until he exposed one of Merlin’s nipples. He made sure Merlin was watching when he dipped his finger into the honey pot and turned it around a bit to keep it from dripping before smearing the honey on the man’s nipple.

“What-” Merlin begun to ask, but stopped with a harsh intake of breath when Arthur leaned forward to lick the honey from his skin. “Arthur!” he huffed and Arthur looked up, catching Merlin’s eyes following the swirls of his tongue.

“You were saying?” Arthur teased and Merlin hit his head on the headboard when Arthur resumed licking.

Merlin cleared his throat, trying to look unbothered. “You’ll mess my clothes.”

“You better take them off, then.”

Arthur helped Merlin out of his clothes and made him lie down on the bed, smudging more honey on his other nipple, making Merlin gasp and squirm under him. The thick and sticky fluid clung to Merlin’s skin and Arthur had to lick and suck over and over until all the sweetness was gone and Merlin was panting from it, his cock heavy and dripping over his stomach.

When Arthur looked up, though, there was a frown on Merlin’s forehead. “What’s wrong?” he asked, confused. Wasn’t he enjoying it?

Merlin averted his eyes, licking his lips. “You did this to Gwen the other day, didn’t you?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“What?” Arthur straightened up, alarmed. “How could you possibly know this?” Was Guinevere telling him those kind of things? Where they sharing their intimate moments behind his back?

Merlin sighed, still avoiding Arthur’s eyes. “I was the one bringing you breakfast and I remember you asking for the honey, specifically. And Gwen asked for a bath later that morning. Besides, I was the one washing the sheets too.” He sounded bitter at the end.

Arthur opened his mouth to deny it, but ended up huffing, shaking his head. There was no point in deceiving Merlin. He did not think that mentioning he had thought about Merlin while doing it to Guinevere, picturing his every reaction in his head, would make any difference.

When Arthur didn’t react, Merlin sent him a hurt look and started to sit up, but Arthur held him down, narrowing his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Arthur, please-” Merlin tried to set himself free, but Arthur pinned him to the mattress with his own body.

“So what if I have done this to Guinevere first? She’s my wife, I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he snapped, annoyed, while Merlin struggled under him.

“I never expected you to!”

“What did you expect of me, then?”

“Arthur,” Merlin panted, forcing his trapped wrists up, “you’re crushing me!”

Arthur lifted his upper body from Merlin’s chest and they stared at each other for a while, breathing heavily.

Merlin was the first to look away. “I don’t know what I expected,” he admitted.

Arthur frowned, letting go of Merlin’s arms and propping himself up on his own outstretched arms. He looked around, his eyes falling on the honey pot, now tilted on the tray by the other end of the bed. He reached it and swept some of the honey that had spilled with his index finger, getting up on his knees and looking down at Merlin.

Merlin’s erection had flagged a bit with their struggle, therefore he should probably fix this first.

“Well,” Arthur said, smearing the honey on Merlin’s cock, earning a cry of shock from the man, “I certainly didn’t do this to Guinevere.”

“Because she would certainly whack you in the head for getting her all sticky down there.” Merlin said, following Arthur’s hand with his eyes when the blond took more of the honey to spread on him, causing some of it to drop on his stomach and over the nest of hair around his cock. “What the hell are you doing, Arthur?”

Arthur smirked at Merlin before licking the honey off his finger, sliding down until his face was leveled with Merlin’s groin. He could smell the honey together with a remaining of the musky smell that lingered over his hand whenever he touched Merlin there. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Merlin’s chin dropped as he watched Arthur lean over and lick his cock from base to tip. Arthur rolled the honey around his tongue, tasting nothing but sweetness. He moved to do it again, but Merlin’s hand on his shoulder stopped him and he looked up to see Merlin propped on his bent elbow.

“Arthur, you don’t have to do this.”

Arthur smacked his lips, shaking his head. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don't get to tell me what I should or should not do?” He batted Merlin’s hand away and held Merlin’s stare as he licked him again.

Merlin gasped and laid back down slowly as Arthur worked him clean of the honey. At each licking and sucking on the head of Merlin’s rapidly hardening cock, the taste became less sweet and more Merlin, yet Arthur was determined not to mull over it.

Had it crossed his mind to do this a few years earlier, he would probably decide against it, but he had nothing to prove to himself or to others anymore. He was a King, and a married one. He was above the gossips now. He could do whatever he pleased without having to justify it. And right now, Arthur wanted to please Merlin and get more of the wanton sounds that he was making at the back of his throat, so he grabbed Merlin’s cock to keep it in place and wrapped his lips around the head, exploring the tip with his tongue, tasting the bitterness of the liquid gathering there.

Before his marriage, Arthur expected to feel humiliated by doing something like this; he remembered wondering how Merlin could subject to this before; but after three years of marriage he knew how arousing and satisfying it felt to be the cause of such pleasure on someone with just his mouth. Sure, he had not used honey on Guinevere, but he had tasted her womanhood and made her blush and squirm just like Merlin was doing right now. He did not dare taking Merlin’s shaft very far into his mouth, just kept sucking and moving around the head and soon Merlin was threshing on the bed, his hands searching for grasp on the sheets.

“Arthur…” Merlin gasped urgently and Arthur let go of his cock, climbing up to kiss him on the mouth, wrapping his hand around Merlin’s cock to finish him off while sucking his lips.

Merlin shot his release with a jerk of his hips and hummed contently while Arthur worked him until the very last drop. Arthur was dying to ask Merlin to retribute, but he settled for watching Merlin’s slack, satisfied face as he brought himself off, spilling over Merlin’s stomach.

The sun had risen while they were otherwise occupied. Arthur threw his arm over his eyes after laying down besides Merlin, sighing. He felt like he could sleep the entire morning, though his mind was refusing to let him drift off to sleep. He peeked under his arm when he heard Merlin walking towards the water basin to wash the cooling mess over his chest and groin. Arthur chuckled when he heard Merlin swearing, calling his attention.

“Oh, you think this is funny, don’t you?” Merlin said annoyedly. “It’s not you who’ll have to walk around all day with your hair pulling and sticking on your clothes.”

“It is funny.” Arthur said, sitting up. “And I didn’t hear you complain a moment ago.”

Merlin grumbled some more insults, but Arthur pretended not to hear them, walking to the window and looking out at the Square below. There were people coming and and going, mostly maids carrying buckets of water and servants running errands for their masters. Arthur looked at the entrance of the square, listening carefully for the sound of cavalry that indicated the arrival of his men, but all was quiet out there.

“They will return,” Arthur heard Merlin saying at his back. “Elyan’ll soon come back with Gwaine at his tail, looking weary for hearing his impossible tales. You shouldn’t worry about them.”

Arthur sighed, consumed by guilt. He should never have sent them, in the first place. “I’m sure they will, Merlin,” he said, even though he sounded unsure to his own ears. “I’m sure they will.”

.oOo.

At least watching Merlin flinch as he walked was distraction enough that day.

“Is there anything wrong, Merlin?” Arthur asked when Merlin grimaced at serving him water on the Throne Room that evening, making the other Knights look at Merlin questioningly.

“Not at all, Sire,” Merlin said, forcing a smile and trying to be discreet while pulling the fabric of his breeches away from his sticking pubes.

“Are you sure?” Leon asked, worried. “It looks like you’re limping a bit.”

Merlin scowled at Arthur as he answered between gritted teeth, “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

Leon shrugged. “If you say so...”

Arthur smirked, amused. At least until he saw Sefa approaching Merlin with a concerned face, placing one hand on his arm as she talked to him in a hushed tone. Arthur cursed under his breath and looked away from them, meeting Guinevere’s arched brow.

He cleared his throat. “Alright, bring the next petitioner in.”

.Merlin.

When Elyan finally returned, he did not bring good news. He showed up with a somber face and no Gwaine nor Percival riding at his side. Six weeks had passed since their disappearance.

Arthur called his Knights to a private meeting right away to plan for a bigger and secret rescuing mission. The moment Elyan mentioned Morgana’s name, Arthur felt a chill running down his spine and he was pretty sure the sentiment was shared as he looked at the grim faces around him.

“Then we have no time to lose,” Arthur said decisively.

“What if the rumours are true, Sire?” Gaius asked, after exchanging a worried look with Merlin. “You may be walking into a trap.”

“The Knights of Camelot do not abandon their own.”

“Morgana knows that.” Gaius insisted. “She'll be waiting for you.”

Arthur looked at him as he said his next words, trying to make the physician understand that his mind was already set on this. “These men have fought for me, bled for me-”

“May I make a suggestion?” Guinevere interrupted him.

Arthur listened to her idea to approach Ismere through Annis’ lands to take Morgana by surprise and started to make plans to leave immediately. As soon as he finished his orders, Merlin opened the doors to the Council Room - probably sensing Arthur’s hurry and keen on getting started with the arrangements for their trip - and bumped right into Sefa.

Arthur rolled his eyes as he passed them. He was ready to tease his servant for his clumsiness when he saw Merlin crouched in front of the serving girl, helping her out and whatever he was about to say fled his mind as his mood darkened. It only increased his anxiety to get on the road as soon as possible, taking Merlin away from the castle and from the foolish, clumsy girl.

“Merlin!” he called as he continued moving towards the corridor, and when he looked over his shoulder and did not see Merlin hastily following behind, he shouted once again. “MERLIN!”

“Ugh,” Guinevere flinched at his side, covering her offended ear with one hand. “He’ll be here soon enough, there’s no need to deafen us all.”

Arthur grumbled kept moving, looking away so that Guinevere couldn’t see his cheeks reddening up.

Guinevere never questioned his decision to follow through with that search himself, probably sensing his restlessness after hearing Morgana’s name. It was not like Arthur had missed his half-sister terribly, but for once, he was glad that she had given him an excuse to go out on the field again. He had enjoyed those peaceful years, yet he had missed the thrill of a challenge and fighting for his men was something he would never shy away from.

.oOo.

“Do you really think Gwaine and Percival could still be alive?” Merlin asked when they were already on their way to Caerleon.

“I have to find out,” Arthur said instead of answering. He was trying not to dwell much on the possibility that they were beyond rescue. “They're Knights of the Round Table. It's a bond we share.”

“I understand,” Merlin said, even though Arthur had his doubts. Unlike Guinevere, Merlin did not seem to understand his need to go on that quest and Arthur could tell that he was troubled after hearing Morgana’s name.

“If it was you who'd disappeared, Merlin, I wouldn't bother,” Arthur teased, trying to lighten the mood - as if he hadn't been sick with worry every time Merlin had disappeared from his sight and refused to give up hope until he found him and made sure he was safe.

Merlin didn't bite to the bait though, continuing riding as if he hadn’t listened to Arthur’s words, and maybe he hadn’t indeed.

Arthur had not realized at first the extent of Merlin’s uneasiness until they reached the abandoned camp Elyan had found. Arthur lost sight of Merlin for a moment as he examined what was left of the village and found him again inside a cave, bent over a dead old man, looking frightened like Arthur had never seen him before, not even during the Dorocha attack, his eyes shining and round as he looked up at Arthur.

“What is it?” Arthur asked and watched as Merlin looked down at the dark pool beside the body as if he had seen a ghost. “Come on, Merlin, you've seen a dead body before. As soon as we've given these people a proper burial, we're moving out.”

Arthur turned his back on Merlin to give him some time to pull himself together, only Merlin did not seem to get over whatever he saw there. He kept quiet and had a permanent frown to his face as he rode a few steps behind Arthur.

Annis welcomed them to her Kingdom and had them settled into her castle for the night, inviting them to a banquet. She told all that she knew about Ismere and even though she confirmed the rumors about Morgana being there, she also gave Arthur hope about finding his men alive, since Morgana seemed to be recruiting men to work for her in some kind of search.

At some point, Queen Annis asked for some entertainment and asked for Arthur’s ‘fool’ to perform. It is unnecessary to say Merlin was outraged with the Queen’s request, but Arthur took the opportunity to tease Merlin for it. Besides, it would only do him some good to take his servant’s mind off whatever was troubling him lately. Arthur was so certain that Merlin would make a right fool of himself that he was absolutely gobsmacked to watch his clumsy servant juggling, of all things. And perfectly so. Arthur clapped along with the rest of Merlin’s audience, but eyed Merlin with suspicion for the rest of the night.

When they were alone at the room Queen Annis had lent to him, Arthur was still regarding Merlin pensively as he watched him move around the room, putting aside his King’s armor. After that, Merlin crouched by the hearth - which someone had already set up a while ago, judging by the comfortable heat of the room - moving the logs about as if there was some purpose to it. Arthur tired of waiting for Merlin to finish undressing him and sat down on the edge of the mattress, settling to take his own boots as he watched Merlin closely.

Merlin had stopped poking the fire and was now simply looking at the flames or, most likely, right through them. At times like these Arthur wished he could read Merlin's mind so that he could know exactly how to better soothe him.

“Where did you learn to juggle like that?” Arthur asked, as much out of curiosity as to try and distract Merlin of his own gloomy thoughts. “Honestly, I didn't even know you could catch.”

“Yes, well, I have many talents. You've failed to notice them, that's all.” Merlin sounded bitter, still keeping his stiff back turned at him.

Arthur abandoned his subtle approach then and went for a straight one instead. “Come on, out with it. What's wrong?” He asked as he finished getting out of his boots.

“I'm not sure we should go to Ismere.”

Arthur looked up to find Merlin staring at him from over his shoulder. “Did you not hear Annis? My men are alive.”

Weren't Merlin supposed to be eager to rescue them either? They were his friends too, specially Gwaine and Percival. Had his fear of Morgana outgrown his loyalty to them after all?

“You don't know that,” Merlin insisted stubbornly.

Arthur lost his very short patience at that. “Look, stick to juggling, Merlin. Leave the important things to me.”

“But-”  
  
“Here,” Arthur cut him off by throwing his boot at Merlin and sighed as it fell right at Merlin’s feet without him moving a muscle to catch it. “See, explain that.”

Merlin nodded, forcing a tense smile on his face. “I wish I could,” he said, reaching out for the fallen boot as Arthur let himself slump back on the mattress, testing its softness. It was heaven compared to the hard, humid floor he had slept on the past nights.

Arthur followed Merlin’s movements as he finished setting everything up, feeling somewhat regretful for his outburst at noticing how miserable he looked. When Merlin finally looked at Arthur, Arthur arched an eyebrow at him and moved his hand to the laces of his breeches, undoing them slowly. Merlin’s eyes followed the movement. Arthur watched him swallow before looking over his shoulder to the closed door behind him and back again at Arthur's face, searching for a clearer sign or a straight order.

Keeping their eyes locked, Arthur slid his tunic up his own belly and stroked the hair around his navel. Arthur had kept a safe distance from Merlin during their trip for the sake of keeping up appearances to his men, but this was too good of an opportunity to let it pass. It was risky, being under the roof of another monarch, which could disapprove of this kind of behavior from her royal guest or take offense if she came to know about this, yet as much as Arthur tried to keep a stoic front for his men, he was as in need of comfort as any of them and he suspected Merlin could make good use of some grounding physical contact either.

“Come,” Arthur said and Merlin moved at once, stopping at his feet and falling to his knees in between Arthur’s legs.

He looked a bit frantic as he pulled Arthur’s breeches down and nosed at Arthur’s groin, pushing the cloth all the way down to his calves and sliding his hands up Arthur’s bare legs smoothly, making his hair stand at their wake. Arthur hummed and closed his eyes when Merlin’s lips closed around his quickly hardening cock, sucking it slowly and reverently, making it fill up all the way.

Arthur placed one arm over his eyes and reached for Merlin’s scalp with the other, stroking his short hair and pulling it gently. Merlin alternated the steady suction with laps at his balls, mouthing them carefully as he continued stroking Arthur’s legs. His touches brought Arthur to the brick and he had to pull harder at Merlin’s hair to stop him before it was too late.

He heard the noise of Merlin's boots hitting the floor then. Merlin was panting as he climbed up the mattress, not waiting to be invited to, pulling Arthur’s arm away and kissing him a bit desperately.

“Hey,” Arthur said, pushing him away, but keeping him from moving out of his reach. He looked into Merlin’s eyes and found them humid, but he could not say if it was from sheer emotion or for working Arthur’s cock too deep in his throat. He guided Merlin until they were lying in front of each other and stroked Merlin’s cheek, watching as he closed his eyes for a moment, covering Arthur’s hand with his own. “Shh. It’ll be alright. There’s no point in getting so worried. It’s not like we didn’t face this kind of danger before.”

“I know, but…” Merlin’s grimaced, sniffing. “What if it turns out not to be alright? What if something happens to us? To you?”

“I remember you telling me a few years ago that you’d always be at my side to protect me. Is this you telling me you can’t protect me this time?” Arthur tried to tease him again, but Merlin merely averted his eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen to us. Morgana can’t know our plans. We'll find them and get them back before you know it,” Arthur insisted.

Merlin swallowed and nodded, looking into his eyes again, his breathing calming down. Arthur reached for Merlin’s scarf and pulled it slowly, stopping when he felt Merlin tense.

“We should pull the curtains down, at least,” Merlin said, frowning.

Arthur sighed, but allowed Merlin to get up on his knees and untie the curtains from the bedposts, shielding them from anyone walking in the room unannounced. Arthur took the time to remove the rest of his clothes.

Merlin pulled his own scarf and was about to toss it away when Arthur grabbed it and pulled him down again. Arthur left the scarf within reach and brought Merlin in for another kiss, this time slower as Arthur tried to show through the gesture all the reassurance he had failed to put into words. Merlin bared his neck when Arthur moved to kiss him there and pushed back into his hand when Arthur touched him through his clothes, squeezing the outline of Merlin's erection.

Arthur undid the laces of Merlin's breeches and pulled his cock free, tugging at it while still mouthing at Merlin's neck and collarbone and scratching it lightly with his teeth. He pulled the collar of Merlin's tunic down a bit and sucked a bruise into his left pectoral, earning a gasp from his servant.

They exchanged kisses and caresses until they both were panting, Arthur in desperate need to come but unwilling to be the first to give in. He grabbed Merlin's neckerchief and spread it on the mattress between them, pulling a corner of it to shield the bed sheets as he talked into Merlin's ear. “Come on, Merlin. Come on now.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said his name as a prayer, holding onto Arthur's waist as he lost himself in the feeling of Arthur's hand on him. His breathing faltered after a couple more jerks from Arthur's wrist and he spilled into the cloth. Arthur did not hesitate before pushing him into his back then, hovering over him and spreading the soiled scarf over Merlin's stomach before taking his own cock in hand and finishing off all over it, his eyes locked on Merlin's until he poured the last drop.

He flopped onto the mattress next. He did not pull away when Merlin grabbed his hand and kissed his palm before placing it over his own chest. Arthur felt the strong and calming thrumming of Merlin's heartbeats as he drifted off to sleep.

.oOo.

Despite their private conversation, Merlin’s mood did not get any better as they continued moving north. They set camp at nightfall after a whole day of riding, then sat by the fire to eat. Arthur was laughing with his men when he noticed Merlin sat alone by the shore of a small pool of rainwater nearby.

Arthur got to his feet and walked to his friend. “Merlin,” he called as he approached, making Merlin look over his shoulder.

Merlin waited until Arthur reached his side to say something. “How can they laugh and joke?”

“Hmm?” Arthur asked as he crouched beside him.

“Don't they know what we will face in Ismere?”

Arthur gave him a small, resigned smile. He had seen enough of Merlin’s concerned face to know that whatever he was musing about should not be made fun of. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “But a warrior learns to enjoy each day as it comes.”

“Because he knows it might be his last,” Merlin completed his sentence, looking down at the water again.

Arthur contemplated him for a moment before deciding to sit down for once. “Why are you so upset?”

“Morgana is powerful. She's dangerous.”

“I know.”

“And you don't care?”

Arthur looked at Merlin at those words, raising an eyebrow at him. It had sounded more of a statement then a question, but Arthur answered anyway. “Only about my men.” He looked over his shoulder to his Knights. “They're more than friends, more than brothers. No matter what lies ahead of me,” Arthur held Merlin’s eyes as he continued, though he kept his tone light, “I won't abandon them, as I know they would not abandon me.”

Merlin nodded gravely. “I understand.” He averted his eyes again, forcing a smile and snorting. “I wish I didn't, but I do.” He searched for Arthur’s eyes again, displaying nothing but honesty.

Arthur held his stare for a long moment, smiling softly as he tried to convey his gratitude and how much he appreciated Merlin for sticking with him even when he was against his decision to move on. Arthur had not realized how much it had been bothering him that Merlin might not understand his motives, he who sometimes knew Arthur better than Arthur himself.

He could not blame Merlin for being spoiled by the three years of peace they had enjoyed. It was natural for him to cling to the perspective of living without a constant threat over their heads as long as he could, but Arthur…

The truth was Arthur had been waiting for this moment this whole time. He knew he could not get peace while Morgana lived and deep down he felt guilty for what she had become. Perhaps it was his destiny to defeat her or die at her hands, but he could not simply sit and wait while this day didn’t come. Perhaps he could turn the odds in his favor by going to her instead of having to defend Camelot against her attack one more time.

“Come and have some food.”

He got up and Merlin followed him back to the camp.

.oOo.

They were ambushed the next morning as they prepared to leave their camping site. As soon as Arthur set eyes on Morgana, he told his men to run. It was not supposed to happen like this, they should have been the ones to surprise Morgana, not the other way around. She had an army surrounding them, so Arthur grabbed Merlin by the arm and forced him to move as they tried to escape her trap and maybe regroup to fight back.

They did not have a choice but to fight for their lives, though. Arthur told Merlin to hide and turned back to face his enemies. He saw Leon fighting with a skilled swordsman and ran to his aid when the man struck his Knight. Arthur had to fight with more of Morgana’s men as they approached, though, so he did not see what hit him, he just felt the clang in his very bones as he fell to the ground. The pain was so strong he felt bile rising up his throat and then he was dragged away, forced to walk on his unsteady legs until they gave out under him.

He must have passed out, for he awoke with Merlin hovering over him.

“What happened?” Arthur asked, groaning when his head throbbed at the slightest of movements.

“You don't remember?” Merlin asked.

Arthur frowned, looking around. It was too calm and the sun was too high in the sky. “Where are the others? Leon? Elyan?”

Merlin shook his head. “There was nothing I could do. I had to get you to safety.”

Arthur huffed a laugh. “What actually happened?”

“The usual. I saved your neck.” Merlin said plainly, as if daring him to doubt his words.

Arthur merely eyed him with a disbelieving frown. “You saved me?”

“Yes.” Merlin said in that same tone he used before. “And I can juggle. I keep telling you, I have many talents.” Merlin offered him his hand and helped Arthur to his feet.

Arthur groaned as he moved, accepting the help. “So it would seem.”

“Come on.” Merlin urged him to get going.

Arthur grabbed his sword and took the lead. For some reason, Merlin had thought they were heading back, despite they been heading north the whole time. Arthur had not given them a moment’s rest, wishing they could reach Ismere before nightfall, but he should have miscalculated the distance, for they were nowhere near there when the sun set and Merlin was furious.

“The two of us against Morgana, are you mad?” Merlin shouted while trying to keep up with Arthur’s pace.

“I told you, I'm going to rescue my men.” Arthur could not help but sound angry. He knew Merlin had his reasons to try and change his mind, but he was not in his best mood either. His head was throbbing, his stomach was empty and his legs were protesting, but he would not stop while there was still daylight, as dim as it was by now.

“No.” Merlin had reached him and held his arm. Arthur turned around to scold him for it, but found genuine fear in his eyes, hidden behind all that anger.

“If you're afraid, then go,” Arthur offered in an understanding tone, even though he knew Merlin would never turn around and get back without him.

“I'm worried about you.”

Arthur sighed. Alright, he was done being understanding. “Right, well, I've tried sending you home. But if you're not going to do as I ask, the least you can do is shut up.” He turned his back on Merlin and resumed his hurried pace. When Merlin did not follow him immediately, he looked back, gesturing with a jerk of his head. “Come on!”

“You know, if Morgana doesn't kill you, I will.” Merlin called after him.

“Threatening a King is treason, Merlin.”

“What about threatening an ass?” he heard Merlin’s not so low mutter as he finally started following him.

“I heard that!”

The night fell soon after that and they found a hidden place under the exposed roots of a tree to sleep, struggling to get comfortable on the hard and cold ground. Merlin should have realized by now Arthur always laid on the right side!

They could not light a fire and Arthur could not afford the risk of taking his armor, so they had to stay as close as possible to share some precious body heat, even though it did not seem to make a difference with all that metal between their bodies.

“Arthur?” he heard Merlin calling when he was almost drifting off to sleep, despite all the discomfort.

He let out an annoyed “Mmm” hopping Merlin would take the hint and give up on saying whatever it was.

Of course Merlin did not take the hint. “I need to tell you something,” he said and, when Arthur didn’t respond to that, he carried on. “The man... The old man in the village-”

“Just think about something else, Merlin,” Arthur made one last attempt at distracting his servant. As much as he had wished Merlin would open up about what was really bothering him, he was not sure he could deal with it right now. He was bone-deep tired, hungry, cold and sleep deprived.

“No, I need you to listen to me.” Merlin insisted and Arthur sighed, resigned to his fate. “Before he died, he tried to warn me... He told me that you were in danger and that the danger was close.”

“He was dying, Merlin. Who knows what he was saying?” Arthur tried to make light of it, though he was beginning to understand what this was all about, what Merlin was truly afraid of.

“I think that he was a Druid seer.”

Keeping his eyes stubbornly closed, Arthur raised his eyebrow in disdain. “You expect me to listen to a sorcerer?”

Merlin was quiet for a moment. “But why would he tell me that? He had no knowledge that I even knew you.”

Arthur did not know what to respond to that, so he kept silent, swallowing some of his thick saliva and hoping against hope that Merlin would drop it.

Which he did not, of course. Arthur felt him shifting at his back. When he spoke again, his mouth was closer to Arthur’s ear, his breath ghosting on his hair as he whispered,  “We have to turn back.”

“I can't.” Arthur retorted in a heartbeat and felt Merlin sitting up beside him. “Even if what he said were true, it makes no difference.”

“Arthur, without you, Camelot is nothing. All that we've worked so hard to create. Everything will be gone-”

Arthur sat up too, gathering all the patience he could not to snap at him. It did not even cross his mind to disclaim Merlin’s role in all that ‘they’ had created together, for Arthur was nothing without his friends, but he had to make Merlin get past that fear of his. “Look, no matter what adversity we face, we stand for what is right. To betray our beliefs, Merlin, that is what would destroy everything we've strived for. I swear I'm going to rescue my men... or die trying.”

“Then I swear,” Merlin said after a brief pause, “I will protect you or die at your side.”

Arthur could not help the fond smile after Merlin’s seriousness. He punched his appreciation at Merlin’s shoulder and laid back down. I never doubted that, he thought to himself and this time Merlin let him sleep.

.oOo.

Arthur woke up to the sound of horses and covered Merlin’s mouth with his gloved hand before his servant had the chance to make a sound. And he did it just in time, for Merlin sat up just as they heard Morgana’s voice coming from too close. She shouted orders to her men and kicked her horse, riding away.

As soon as their pursuers reached a safe distance, Arthur got them moving again. Merlin kept talking and complaining all the way and, despite Arthur’s annoyed retorts at his babbling manservant, Arthur was fine with it as long as he did not call the attentions of their pursuers. They had not eaten anything since the day before and Merlin was grumbling about that when they came across two dead rabbits.

As soon as Arthur set eyes on those carcasses lying so neatly side by side he knew there was something off, but it was not until he spotted the rope that he realised what it was. “Merlin!” he cried out lunging to try and pull his servant back, but it was too late.

The trap was activated and they were both caught in a net, hanging in the air in a bundle of limbs. Arthur was still stunned by how fast it had happened when Merlin grunted at his side, grabbing the two stinking rabbits firmly in hand.

“I got them!” Merlin said stupidly and Arthur wished he had enough space left to kick him.

Arthur was infuriated and he tried really hard not to lash out all of his frustrations on Merlin. He spent the rest of the day trying to free them, as impossible as it seemed.

“If I could reach my sword, we'd be able to cut the rope,” Arthur said, shifting around as much as he could, to no avail. There was no leverage for him to pull himself up and grab his sword, no matter how much he tried.

“Ow!” Merlin cried out when Arthur was attempting to twist his body just so. Again. “Don't put your knee there.”

“Where?” Arthur asked, only half listening.

“There!” Merlin jerked away from Arthur's offending knee, which apparently had nudged him on the balls. “Arrgh!”

The movement caused the sword to drop to the ground and Arthur jumped up and down on a fit of anger. “MERLIN! God!”

“That was your fault.” Merlin insisted, leaning away from him to avoid further damage to his most delicate body parts while Arthur fruitlessly tried to bring them down. “That was your fault!”

Arthur finally gave up trying, having wasted all that was left of his energy. “Great. Just great,” he said, falling limp against the ropes, which had not given out one bit.

If only the rabbits weren’t smelling so bad, Arthur would probably eat them raw.

“Where did the other rabbit go?” Merlin asked and Arthur considered stuffing Merlin’s mouth with the one that was left, just so he would shut his mouth.

On the bright side, it was not so cold, hanging there above the ground. If only he could turn around to ease the discomfort on his shoulder… Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

“At least it’s a lovely night,” Merlin said conversationally and Arthur snorted. “What? It could be raining! Instead, the sky is lit up with stars.”

“Shut up Merlin, or I’ll shut it for you.”

Arthur knew it was as much his fault as it was Merlin's, after all he should have been more alert, he should've warned Merlin before he stepped closer to it. If Arthur had not acted on impulse trying to pull Merlin out of the danger, he would be standing on the ground, laughing at Merlin’s stupidity and able to cut through the rope to free him - although probably not before watching Merlin hang and whine and plead for a while just to teach him a lesson. This was as much his own fault as Merlin’s, yet he could not help feeling grumpy. It was an idiotic way to be captured, like a stupid animal.

“I'm about to starve to death while holding some actual food,” Merlin said then.

Arthur did not laugh right away. It started with a smile, then a snigger, followed by a chuckle which became a laughter. Merlin followed after him, the net shaking as they laughed harder.

“It's not nearly a noble death for a King,” Arthur stated when he calmed down again. “To his servant, maybe, but not for a King.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll probably find a way of making it sound heroic,” Merlin considered. “Like you were trying to save the poor defenseless rabbits from the trap.”

Arthur laughed again until his belly ached from it and was rewarded with Merlin's smile.

They stood in silence for a moment after that and Arthur sighed, finally tilting his head to look up to the sky. As Merlin had promised, it was indeed a beautiful night. Arthur thought about all that had led him to this moment and wondered what he would have done if he had the chance to change anything, but he found that he didn’t have that many regrets.

“Have you thought what it’d be like for Gwen if you weren't to return alive?”

Arthur took a moment to respond, despite having thought about this countless times already, even before he left for this quest. “Gwen will be fine. She's a Queen at heart, she'll probably rule Camelot better than I ever did.”

“She is a very capable and fair Queen, but-”

“She'll be fine, Merlin,” Arthur interrupted him, unwilling to hear from Merlin how much of a great King he was. He wasn’t feeling particularly great at the moment.

He did not think they were to die in that trap. It had been set recently, which meant whoever had done it would return shortly to inspect it. Yet, he didn’t know if it were a good or bad thing. He only wished Merlin would not have the same fate as his.

He was not lying before, he knew Guinevere would be alright without him. She would grieve for a while, but she had endured so much already and had come out of everything with her head held high. Eventually, she would move on with her life and rule Camelot fiercely like a mother caring for her children. He was not worried about her, as he had not been before.

Merlin, on the other hand…

Merlin would suffer the most for his loss. Suddenly, the meaning of Merlin's words the last night finally sink in. Merlin was not planning on living without him. He was willing to sacrifice himself for his King and Arthur would be damned if he allowed that to happen.

“Arthur…” Merlin started, his voice heavy with feeling.

Whatever he was about to say, Arthur did not think he could deal with it at the moment.

“Go to sleep, Merlin. There’s nothing we can do for now. We’ll think of something in the morning. And don’t you dare move,” he added when Merlin squirmed. They seemed to have found a balance in the net, as precarious as it seemed to be and though it was not exactly comfortable - nor fragrant, since there were two carcasses between them -, their bones were not digging into each other’s flash, so it should be enough for them to get some rest.

Merlin stopped squirming, but he reached out with his free hand and laced his fingers loosely around Arthur’s wrist, resting his cheek against the cold metal of Arthur’s breastplate, sighing. Arthur fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, lulled by the singing of crickets and the grumbling of their empty stomachs.

.oOo.

Arthur dreamed he was falling and woke up to realize he was not dreaming at all. Fortunately it was a short fall and he sprawled painfully on his back with Merlin grunting at his side. Arthur knew exactly how much pain Merlin should be at, his own muscles protesting to the sudden stretch after a whole night curled up on his side. The next thing Arthur realized was two pairs of booted feet surrounding them and the shine of swords.

“I'm sorry. Did we wake you?” said another man surging from around the tree the net had been tied to.

Arthur moved quickly, trying to reach for his sword still on the ground, but the man, who seemed to be the leader, stepped on it.

“Not so fast.” The man smiled, tucking away his knife to examine Arthur’s sword closely. “The King of Camelot. You will fetch a handsome price. Alive or dead.”

Arthur looked over his shoulder to make sure Merlin was alright. Merlin was panting from the startle, his hair ruffled from the rough night of restless sleep, but otherwise looking resigned.

“Any last requests?” Their captor asked, pointing Arthur’s own sword at him.  
  
“Let my servant go,” Arthur said without a moment’s exitance. “He doesn't deserve to die like this.”

The leader gave him a mocking laugh, but looked at one of his man in a silent order to grant him his wish. One of the bandits grabbed Merlin and pulled him to his feet, dragging him away while another man manhandled Arthur to a half-sitting position, forcing him to stick out his neck. Arthur did not have much time to think about his last prayer before hearing Merlin’s calm and collected words.  
  
“If you're going to kill him, you'll have to kill me first.”  
  
“Merlin!” Arthur warned, cursing silently as the leader of the bandits smiled cruelly turning around to point the sword at Merlin. “Step aside,” Arthur ordered.

Merlin did not even care to look at Arthur, keeping his eyes fixed on their captor. “You know I never do as I'm told.”

With a sense of exasperation mixed with annoyance, Arthur watched the man taking a step towards Merlin and acted on impulse, moving to get on his feet. He was already doomed anyway, so the least he could do was make sure the bastard would not touch a single strand of Merlin’s hair.

“Stop!” someone shouted before Arthur could strike and they all turned to look at a boy coming out of the forest with a dead bird in hand. The boy marched up in a straight line towards Merlin, stopping right in front of him, his face blank as they stared at each other. “Shouldn't we leave it to the Lady Morgana to decide their fate?” he addressed the leader of the gang, his eyes never wandering from Merlin’s.

The man simply sneered again, turning his back on them as if he was merely having fun on their expenses. Arthur watched the other three men move away, keeping half his attention on the boy, who was approaching him now, offering him a hand. Arthur looked at him suspiciously before taking it. He could practically feel the weariness on the tense line of Merlin’s shoulders as he watched them.  
  
“You don't remember me, do you?” the boy said as soon as Arthur was back on his feet, keeping their hands firmly clasped. Arthur frowned, taking in the boy’s features. There was some familiarity to the lines of his mouth and the color of his eyes, but Arthur could not put his finger on it. “You saved my life once, many years ago.”  
  
Arthur was still struggling to remember, but Merlin seemed to have worked it faster. “Mordred,” he said and Arthur could not tell the exact emotion behind the name.

The name stirred something on the surface on Arthur’s memory, but not enough to tell if it was a good or bad remembrance. He searched for Merlin’s face to try and tell it, but Merlin was still fixing Mordred with open mistrust. And then it came to Arthur: the round, pale face of a druid kid in the tunnels of the castle, looking terrified and too defenceless for Arthur to leave him at his father’s mercy. Arthur stared at the boy again searching for those features and found them, though a bit changed by puberty as the boy smirked.  
  
“Hello, Arthur,” he said, and the smirk was gone in a heartbeat, leaving his face blank and his eyes blue like the surface of a frozen lake.

.oOo.

Arthur did not have much time to muse about Mordred’s apparition, for they were tied and dragged to a carriage nearby with other prisoners. At the very least they were still alive and this meant there was every chance that his Knights might be alive as well, if they were taking every man in working capacity to Morgana. All Arthur had to do now was think of a way to escape his captors. As Merlin pointed out, they needed a plan and they needed it fast.

To make matters worse, the temperature dropped impossibly while they worked their way north and the fact that they were underfed, dehydrated and tied up was already challenging enough without the snow and and the cutting wind.

Arthur was worried about Merlin. His servant was trembling nonstop, his lips becoming bluer by the minute and the snowflakes gathering on his eyelashes, but Merlin could not seem to take his eyes of Mordred, watching him with growing suspicion, despite the boy being the least of Arthur’s worries. He was not cruel like the others and was clearly just following his orders without taking any pleasure from the suffering inflicted on the prisoners, unlike the others. He had even given them a piece of bread - it was days old and frozen, but Arthur was not in the position to complain about food.

They managed to set an escape plan and, surprisingly, it worked just fine. Arthur grabbed his sword back and a crossbow, while Merlin picked up an axe and they ran from their captors until they reached a rift and had to jump over it. They took shelter and Arthur started to shoot their pursuers as they tried to follow them past the rift, only they would not stop coming, so Merlin acted against Arthur’s orders and left their shelter to use his axe to take down the passage while Arthur kept covering for him.

Merlin’s plan worked just when Mordred approached the other side of the rift, stopping right at the border. Arthur kept his aim on the boy, ready to shoot if he tried to jump, but Mordred simply stared at them with those huge, childish eyes of his. Once again, Arthur was reminded of the scrawny kid he had helped escape and he lowered his weapon just a fraction, knowing that he was incapable of shooting the boy. Mordred turned his back on them and walked back in silence.

“Why did you spare his life?” Merlin asked as they took shelter again.

“He couldn't come after us.”

“He was leading us to our deaths!” Merlin shouted, sounding angry all of a sudden.

“He showed us kindness,” Arthur argued, but Merlin did not seem to be listening.

“You should've killed him!”

Arthur looked at him, frowning. “What is wrong with you?”

Merlin was not one to be vengeful like that, especially when Mordred had shown them humanity.

Merlin averted his eyes at that, but was still mad at Arthur, for some reason. “You had the chance!”

“We escaped, didn't we?” Arthur turned his back on him, annoyed.

When Merlin spoke again, he sounded more resigned than angry. “Next time, we might not be so lucky.”

“I love your optimism,” Arthur said mockingly. He grabbed a fistfull of Merlin’s clothes and pulled him up as he rose to his feet. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”

.oOo.

They reached the fortress and sneaked in unnoticed, despite Merlin’s pessimism. Once inside, they dressed like saxons to blend in and then it was a matter of time until they found Percival, who informed them the other Knights were all there, except for Gwaine, who seemed to have gone missing. Arthur instructed Percival to gather the others while he and Merlin searched for Gwaine inside the tunnels.

It turned out Gwaine was alive and well - except for a light limp - but not alone. There was a creature with him, resembling a human being, but translucid and apparently glowing from the inside. As soon as they saw it, Merlin took a step ahead of Arthur - if to look at it more closely or to shield Arthur from any possible harm, Arthur was not sure.

They did not have time to investigate though, and moved to find the others as well as their way out. The way back through the tunnels was surprisingly clear, but Arthur was not one to complain, yet Merlin had a different opinion.

“Something's wrong.” Merlin said, looking worried. “The Saxons, where have they all gone?”

“First there are too many, now there aren't enough. Are you ever happy?” Arthur complained. He heard an indistinguishable noise in the distance, but did not really worry about it until Merlin pointed it out.

“What was that?” Merlin asked, moving past Arthur and Gwaine.

“What?” Arthur asked, but then a gust of wind made the fire from the torch Arthur was holding nearly blow out.

“Feel the wind.” Merlin’s voice was low and serious and his remark was followed by the mysterious noise again, which sounded louder and made the hairs on Arthur’s nape stand up.

“That wasn't the wind,” said Gwaine right before they saw a beast appearing at the other side of tunnel, roaring.

Arthur moved quickly, grabbing Merlin’s coat and pulling him back. He let go of the torch and helped Gwaine as they ran to the opposite side. Merlin found an opening in the rocks and guided them inside right on time. They hid there as the beast run past them, spitting fire.

“Was that what I think it was?” Gwaine asked, stunned.

Arthur was torn between fear, outrage and curiosity as he moved closer to where Merlin was peeking outside of their hiding place. “Where did Morgana get a dragon from?”

“I've no idea.” Merlin panted. “Get Gwaine back to Percival. I'll lure the dragon the other way.”

Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s chest, keeping him from moving ahead. “Merlin, I knew you were stupid, but not that stupid.”

He let go of Merlin then, looking back at Gwaine, thinking the matter was settled. It never occurred to him Merlin would act against his orders on this, but it was exactly what Merlin did.

“No, I really am that stupid and if you don't believe me, watch.”

“Merlin!” Arthur lunged forward to grab him, but it was too late. He watched as Merlin run after the beast, refusing to believe it. He had come all this way after his men, did Merlin really believe he was going to leave him behind now? Merlin, of all people? “I'm going after him,” he told Gwaine and scrambled to his feet.

He tried to listen to something, but the tunnels were quiet, so he called for Merlin without worrying about the saxons. It had become clear that none of them was stupid enough to chase after a dragon as Merlin just did - and as Arthur was doing now. It turned out he was wrong again.

“How good of you to save me the trouble of finding you,” he heard Morgana’s voice behind him and moved to grab his sword - which was not there, of course. “Oh, dear how remiss of you. Your bravery is matched only by your stupidity. What on earth did you think you would achieve by coming here?”

Arthur turned around to face Morgana, finding Mordred standing right next to her. Had Merlin been right all along? Should Arthur have taken his chance and killed the boy when he had the chance?

“I'm here to free my men,” Arthur said with all the confidence he managed to gather, while unharmed and facing his most dangerous enemy.

Morgana snickered and said something under her breath, sending her dagger flying in the air. Arthur tried to grab it, but it scratched his shoulder and sent him crouching on the ground with his back to Morgana.

“This time it seems there really is no way out,” she said, her voice filled with hatred and madness.  
  
Arthur grabbed his wounded shoulder and crawled further away from her, grimacing. “I'm sorry for what our father did to you.”

“Uther was never my father.”

“But we are brother and sister.”

“Funny how you choose to remember that with my dagger at your back.”

Arthur’s shoulders sagged and he stood on his feet again, facing her. “What happened to you, Morgana? As a child, you were so kind, so compassionate...”

“I grew up,” Morgana snarled, her eyes cold as ice. She send the dagger flying again and it pierced Arthur's skin, making him double over, crying in pain before losing his balance and falling on his back. “You are right to cower before my hand. I am more powerful than you can imagine.”

“And yet with all that, you choose to do nothing but hate,” Arthur said, trying to call her to reason.

Morgana laughed at that, stepping closer to him with Mordred right behind. “Uther taught me well.” She curled her upper lip in spite. “Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur had nothing to do besides accepting his fate. He was thankful that his men were nowhere to see him die by his sister’s hand and Guinevere was safe back in Camelot. All that he wished was for Merlin to be alright and safe somewhere far away from them.

As soon as he thought it, he heard Merlin’s call from close by as if summoned by his thoughts. “Arthur!”

Arthur felt a mix of relief and exasperation, for Morgana and Mordred turned back to where they could hear Merlin approaching. Mordred drew his sword, but Morgana was faster, moving her hand and sending Merlin flying back as if he were a feather caught by the wind.

“No!” Arthur shouted and watched with his chest aching as Merlin hit a rock and slid down to the floor, closing his eyes tight with pain. “Morgana...” Arthur said and hated how weak his voice sounded. He looked away from Merlin and into his sister’s eyes. “Please…”

Morgana’s eyes shone with gold and Arthur felt a blow to the side of his head. “Don't speak, dear brother,” he heard Morgana’s voice as if from afar, fighting against unconsciousness. “It's too late.”

He thought he heard Morgana gasp then, but his head was spinning and he could not see past the fog covering his sight. He felt himself being lifted after some time and focused his eyes on Morgana lying on the ground. For some reason, he thought it was Merlin who was carrying him and struggled to move his feet, as he walked.

“Merlin,” Arthur mumbled and looked up to see dark curls and ice blue eyes instead.

“You have to get out of here,” Mordred said and forced him ahead.

Arthur wanted to insist on turning back to get Merlin, but the words would not come out. He closed his eyes and when he looked up again to someone calling his name - Merlin? - he saw Percival. His eyes rolled back again before he could say anything. Even as he drifted out, he knew there was something wrong, something missing, but his head was pounding and his tongue was thick inside his mouth.

He felt himself being carried as he drifted on and off. When he was put down on the ground and someone shoved a water skin at his lips, he pushed it away, shaking his head. “Merlin,” he said and watched Percival exchange a look with Gwaine and they both looked over their shoulders.

Arthur had to blink to focus on Mordred, who shrugged. “He was knocked out. I couldn’t carry both of them.”

Arthur grabbed Percival’s arm and pulled him closer. “Get Merlin,” he said urgently and Percival nodded.

“I’ll find him. Now drink some water, Sire.”

Arthur simply gripped him tighter, grinding his teeth together as his head throbbed painfully.

“We won’t leave without him, I promise,” Gwaine said and grabbed the skin from Percival’s hand, nodding for him to get going.

Arthur drunk some water keeping his eyes on Mordred as he gulped it down.

“I’ll go with him,” Mordred volunteered, averting his eyes from Arthur’s.

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes again, blacking out almost instantly.

.oOo.

When he opened his eyes again, it was night. They were outside the fortress and there was a fire burning, sending waves of blessed heat at his legs. Arthur tried to sit up, but the world spun around and he laid back again, groaning.

“Merlin,” he called, closing his eyes tight when his head pounded painfully.

“Arthur?” Arthur heard someone approaching and opened his eyes to see Merlin looming over him with a frown. Merlin’s face split up on a smile then. “Hi.”

Arthur took advantage of their proximity and punched Merlin on the shoulder as hard as he could.

“Ow!” Merlin said and moved away, grabbing his shoulder with a wounded expression. “What was that for?”

“You stupid-” Arthur punched him again, “stupid… idiot!” He aimed another weakened blow, but Merlin dodged it easily, grabbing his wrists and holding them down. “How come you went after a dragon, you dumbass?”

“Hey, stop it already. You had a concussion!”

“That’s because my head’s not as thick as yours.”

“Alright, I get that you’re angry at me, now be quiet or your head won’t stop hurting. Percival won’t say anything, but he’s tired of carrying you around over his shoulder. You’ll have to walk on your own tomorrow.”

Arthur stopped struggling against Merlin’s hold, but pulled away from him, sending one last angry look at his servant. Merlin sighed and sat up straighter, moving the logs on the fire with a stick.

“I’m hungry,” Arthur said, trying to sit up again.

This time, Merlin helped him, making him rest his back against a tree trunk. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, avoiding to look at his master.

He crouched over Arthur to reach for the water skin and helped him drink some of it.

“You were wrong,” Arthur said some time later, watching as Merlin mixed something on a pan, filling the air with the inviting smell of spices and making Arthur’s mouth water. “Mordred saved my life.”

Merlin sighed again, still avoiding his look. “I know. I saw it.”

Arthur could see there was something bothering Merlin by the way his mouth was in a tight line, but he was too relieved to examine it. He surprised his servant by reaching for his arm and squeezing it.

Merlin searched for his gaze and nodded curtly before grabbing a spoon and a plate. “Alright, time for supper.”

“Please tell me it isn’t rabbit.”

Merlin laughed and Arthur smiled at the sound, resting his head on the tree at his back and drinking from the sight of the wrinkles forming around Merlin's eyes. They were alive and they were going back home. Arthur couldn't be more grateful.

.oOo.


	9. Nine

The first thing Arthur did upon arriving was knight Mordred. The boy had proven his worth and had shown great skill with a sword, even though he had much to learn still. Arthur enjoyed teaching him himself in a demonstration of his gratitude and also because there was something about the boy which appealed to Arthur's paternal sense. He hadn't even realized he had such a thing before.

The days went by quickly and Arthur was surprised to realize the anniversary of his coronation was already upon him. As soon as he started to receive his subjects’ congratulations, though, his mood became dark and his forehead had a permanent frown. Arthur chose to go out on a hunt with Merlin that day, but the fact that Merlin kept sneezing and once even startled a deer by falling into a stream did not help. Arthur was already resigning himself to come back empty-handed when they heard the screams.

There were some villagers preparing to burn an old woman at the stake and Arthur didn't think twice before ordering them to take her down.

“Your father would have shown her no mercy,” said the town chief.

“I am not my father,” Arthur said without hesitation. “Now cut her down.”

Despite Merlin's best efforts, the woman was beyond salvation. Arthur told his servant to do everything he could to ease her passage. In a show of gratitude, she presented him with a horn. A magic horn, she said, one that could summon the spirits of the dead.

Arthur brought the horn for Gaius to examine and the physician was positive it was genuine and as dangerous as any magical artefact could be, but he also happened to tell Arthur exactly how to use it.

That night, at the feast, Arthur could not stop thinking about the artefact and the possibility of talking to his father one last time. He barely slept that night and told Merlin to prepare the horses the following morning.

“Where are we going?” Merlin asked, curious.

“You don't need to know.” Arthur raised a spoon from the table as he stood up, looking into his servant's eyes with gravity. “Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Not even Guinevere.”

Merlin eyed the spoon and then him. “You're threatening me with a spoon?” He asked  disbelieving.

Arthur smacked the cutlery on Merlin's butt just to teach him a lesson, making him cry out and cradle the offended flesh, moving out of his reach with a wounded look.

Merlin tried to dissuade him from messing with such powerful magic, but Arthur had his mind set on this. There was no turning back now. He entered the circle of stones and blew the horn. After a few seconds, he was nearly blinded by light, but he followed its source, trying to see past the brightness until he sighted a shadow approaching.

Arthur was overwhelmed by his feelings at seeing his father walking up to him with a guarded expression on his face. “Father,” he sighed, his eyes welling up.

“Arthur,” Uther greeted, his voice deep and soft and familiar.

“I thought I would never see you again,” Arthur opened up, heartfelt. “There isn't a day that passes when I don't think of you.”

“And I, you,” Uther said with a soft nod.

“There are times when I feel so alone, I wish more than anything that you were by my side.”

Arthur should not feel alone while surrounded by so many friends, yet none of them knew the exact weight of the burden he carried, even if they tried to. Those times, Arthur wished he had someone to confide in, even if he knew it was impossible. He would never have become King if not for his father passing. He was bound to be alone.

Knowing it didn't make it any easier, though.

“If I were at your side, I fear you would not like all that I have to say.”

Arthur frowned, taken aback by his father’s words. “What do you mean?”

“Many of the decisions you have made since you have become King go against all that I taught you,” Uther said, and even though his tone was soft, his words stung deeply.

“I have done what I have believed to be right,” Arthur remarked, trying not to sound so hurt as he felt. 

This wasn’t going as he anticipated. For some reason, Arthur had thought his father would understand him, but Uther was saying things about tradition, weakness, about his marriage and about failure. Arthur counteracted every and each one of those remarks, but his words felt weak and empty, his body felt numb. Even his declaration of love for Guinevere sounded unsure to his own ears as he remembered Merlin standing outside the circle on his own, waiting for him, and Arthur stuttered as he said them, meeting his father’s cold eyes.

Did he know about Merlin too? Was that another of the many reasons for him to despise his son?

“I have always strived to make you proud,” Arthur said, avoiding the accusations written all over Uther’s face, his voice wavering. He recalled his father’s dying words, but he started to ask himself if they had ever been said or if Arthur had imagined them in his desperation and grief. Had Uther really said he had always been proud of Arthur?

“How can I be proud of a son who ignores everything that I taught him? Who is destroying my legacy?” Uther said, his words crushing Arthur almost physically.

“I have brought peace to the Kingdom…” Arthur made one last feeble attempt to make him reconsider

“At what price? The peace cannot last. If you are not strong, the Kingdom will fall.” Uther said accusingly, then continued when Arthur failed to answer. “You must go now.” He turned his back on Arthur.

Arthur blinked to dispel the tears, but only caused them to run down his face. “I need more time. There is still so much I wish to say.”

Uther would not listen to his pleading, though. He hurried Arthur to go, saying he would be trapped there if he did not leave soon. “Think about everything that I have said to you. It isn't too late,” he said. “Now go!”

Arthur was reluctant to turn his back on his father, but he did it anyway, his steps slow and unsure, his shoulders heavier than ever.

“I will always love you, Arthur,” Arthur heard his father’s whisper. At first, he thought he had not heard them right. Uther could not be saying that after all his previous harsh words. How could he love someone who brought nothing but disappointment to him?

Arthur looked over his shoulder, trying to figure out if Uther had really said it or if it was another figment of his imagination. Uther’s form dispelled as he looked, before he could decide, so he kept walking back to his own world, back to firm ground and to where Merlin was waiting for him with a worried face.

“Arthur?” he called, waiting until Arthur reached him just outside the circle of stones. He must have seen something in his face, though, for he did not ask any questions when Arthur walked straight past him, towards his horse.

Merlin waited patiently until they set camp for the night before making any attempt at getting him to open up. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, sitting opposite Arthur, close to the fire. “What happened at the stones?”

Arthur blinked to focus his eyes on his servant and it took some time for his thoughts to stop twirling enough for him to catch on his servant’s words. “It seems my father doesn't approve of the way I have chosen to rule his Kingdom,” he said at last.

“You mean  _ your  _ Kingdom.”

It was not a question. Merlin was simply pointing out Arthur’s mistake in choosing the words, as well as reminding Arthur who he really was. Arthur appreciated the gesture, but he could not stop thinking about his father’s words.

“The things he said about the Knights, about marrying Guinevere. What if he's right? What if I have... weakened Camelot?” He asked. He always trusted Merlin to be honest with him, even if he probably was not the right person for Arthur to ask about his marriage. Merlin would tell him if he was doing something wrong, wouldn't he?

“Do you really believe that?” Merlin asked, shaking his head. “You have always done what you believed to be right. People respect you.”

Arthur averted his eyes. “Thank you, Merlin,” he said. Even if he did not feel particularly reassured, he appreciated the sentiment.

“Some people still think you're a foolish, arrogant ass.”

Arthur looked at him, frowning. “Who?” he asked and watched Merlin shrug. He felt foolish for not realizing Merlin’s teasing tone before. “Very funny,” Arthur said without putting his heart to it. He was not in the mood for bantering right now. He could sense Merlin’s half-smile fading as he looked up at the darkening skies, rubbing his hands. “We should get some sleep.”

Arthur lied down right where he was, but could not find it in himself to sleep. He kept waiting for Merlin to nudge him to the right to get a better spot close to the fire and next to him, but that never happened. He should probably feel relieved, for he wasn't in the mood for that either, yet he felt somewhat disappointed. At some point, Arthur opened his eyes to see Merlin laying on his back at the very spot he was before, his head pillowed on his crossed arms and his eyes opened as he gazed pensively at the stars.

Sighing, Arthur turned to the other side and closed his eyes again, trying not to think.

.oOo.

Guinevere did not ask any questions upon their return, offering only a knowing smile at seeing Merlin and Arthur arriving side by side. Arthur knew she was thinking he had escaped to get some time alone with Merlin and he should probably tell her the truth, yet he couldn't find it in himself to do so. He only regretted not having taken the time to enjoy more of Merlin’s company, now that he was back and had no excuse to sneak to his old chambers with his servant.

Back to his routine, Arthur had a handful of things to keep his mind off his father’s words and he finally convinced himself to move on. In hindsight, he should have known better than to seek for his father’s comfort. Uther had never been one to say soothing words while still living, whyever would he have changed in death? He always said what was on his mind, regardless of other people’s feelings. Even if Arthur had not imagined his parting words and Uther had really been proud of him before, his father had no way of knowing how far Arthur was willing to step from his beliefs after his death, how much Arthur would stray from Uther’s advices.

Perhaps he should believe more in himself, like Merlin did. And Guinevere, and his Knights, and so many others, but Merlin especially. His servant never wavered from his trust in Arthur’s decisions, whenever he was following his heart.

Arthur would have happily forgotten the incident if it wasn’t for the strange things that started to happen soon after their return. First, the candelabra fell on top of the Round Table without any sign of rust on the chains, then Percival was hurt by a flying axe in the armory. Next thing, Merlin was asking questions about him looking back at his father at the stones and unleashing his father’s spirit.

“I know my father. He wouldn't do these things,” Arthur said, refusing to believe it at first.

“I think he'd do anything to protect his legacy,” Merlin insisted. “Who knows what he's capable of?”

“Enough! That's enough.” Arthur interrupted him, thoroughly disturbed by Merlin’s certainty about his father’s capability of attempting to kill one of his Knights just to teach him a lesson. He looked into Merlin’s eyes, giving him a chance to apologize and say he was wrong, but Merlin never wavered. “Leave me,” he said then and glared at him when Merlin did not move a muscle to obey. “Go!”

Merlin glared right back at him and for a moment Arthur thought he would say something stubborn or insulting even, but then he left, although he made sure to let Arthur know how much he disapproved of his behavior before that with nothing but his intense stare and the tightness of his mouth. Arthur wished he did not feel so affected by his servant’s disapproval. It had been bad enough with his father, the last thing he needed was Merlin admonishing him.

Later, Arthur would feel guilty for not worrying when Guinevere did not show up for bed. Instead, he was grateful for the time alone. He still was angry at Merlin and was beginning to consider going after him and punishing him somehow when a guard knocked on his room, telling him his presence was expected in Gaius’s chambers and that it had something to do with the Queen’s health.

Arthur had already forgotten his anger by the time he found Merlin in the corridors, babbling something about a fire in the Kitchens and finding Guinevere unconscious in the middle of it, apparently knocked out by a blow to the head.

“You know this was Uther,” Merlin said when they got to Merlin’s chambers, where the still unconscious Queen had been laid out and was now under Gaius’s meticulous care.

“We don't know what happened,” Arthur insisted, but his words sounded week to his own ears.

“So Gwen just mysteriously ended up locked in the Kitchens, which just mysteriously caught fire. You said yourself Uther disapproved of you marrying Gwen-”

“He wouldn't do this,” Arthur interrupted him, still holding on to his own stubbornness.

Merlin looked him in the eye, his voice so low and full of understanding it was bordering on annoying. “I know how hard this is for you.”

Arthur looked away from Merlin and at Guinevere’s relaxed face. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully. “Gaius, how is she?”

Gaius stood up to face him. “Smoke has entered her lungs, but with time she will heal. I have given her a sleeping draught. She was lucky to escape with her life.”

Arthur looked at Merlin, knowing it was not luck what kept her alive, but Merlin’s fierceness and loyalty. Arthur considered his words again, knowing Merlin would not go all that way talking ill of his deceased father just to distress him when Guinevere’s life was in danger.

“I've always known my father could be cruel, but why would he do this to Guinevere? He knows how much I love her,” Arthur argued. Even though Merlin merely stared back at him, deep down Arthur knew the answer to that question and he could read it on Merlin’s face. “Gaius.” Arthur turned to the physician. “What do you know about ghosts?”

It turned out Gaius knew a great deal about them and he provided a solution for their problem, though it was not ideal and involved a great risk. A risk Arthur would be willing to take even if it were not his own fault that his father’s spirit had come back to haunt him.

Merlin and Arthur drank a disgusting potion which would allow them to see his father’s ghost and went on the hunt. Merlin was clearly distraught by the perspective and he did not bother to disguise his fear as much as Arthur did.

When Leon caught them sneaking on the castle’s corridors, Arthur made the mistake of letting Merlin come up with an explanation, which turned out to be something to do with poetry. Arthur could not tell if Merlin had done that because he was as clueless as he seemed to be most of the time or if he had acted on purpose just to make Leon look at Arthur with disguised amusement and - was it a knowing smirk hidden in the corner of the Knight's mouth as he left them to their “poetry”? Was he suspecting other reasons? It was not the first time Arthur wondered if Leon knew about the true nature of Arthur’s relationship with his manservant, but he did not have the time to examine it now, especially after sighting his father’s ghost out of the corner of his eye.

“I never thought the day would come when I would be hunting my own father,” Arthur admitted as they carefully followed Uther’s possible path through the corridors. “When I became King, more than anything, I wanted to make him proud.”

Arthur watched Merlin shake his head.

“What is it?” Arthur pressed, curious.

“You've always done what you believed to be right even if you knew your father would disapprove of it,” Merlin said with conviction. “Do you not see how different you are from him? Camelot is a better place since you became King.”

Arthur averted his eyes. “My father clearly doesn't think so.”

“The people believe in you, Arthur.” Merlin waited until Arthur looked at him to continue his remark. “It counts for nothing if you don't believe in yourself.”

Their conversation was interrupted by confounding noises coming from opposite directions and Arthur instructed Merlin to check the storeroom while Arthur continued towards the Throne Room.

In retrospect, Arthur should not have split up from Merlin. His servant’s words gave him the confidence to face Uther’s anger and his twisted logic, but he must have ended up knocked out, for he woke up splattered on the floor with his head throbbing and a nagging feeling in the back of his head.

It took him some time to situate himself as he sat up, holding his aching head. His first thought after that was: where was Merlin? And then it hit him. If his father had known about his Knights and Guinevere, why wouldn’t he know about Merlin as well?

“Dear God,” Arthur said, hurrying to his feet. He should never have left Merlin out of his sight!

He left to the corridor and listened carefully. He heard noises coming from the armory and ran towards it. He found Merlin pinned to the wall by two spears at the opposite side of the room.

Uther’s ghost had him at sword's point. “It will give me great pleasure killing you.”

“Father!” Arthur called, making Uther stop and turn to face him.

Arthur was panting from the run, keeping their eyes locked as he raised the magic horn threateningly. He could see Merlin looking at him behind his father, but had he to complete his task before making sure Merlin wasn't hurt.

“Arthur, no,” Uther whispered, looking suddenly afraid. “Please. Whatever I’ve done, I’ve done for Camelot.”

Arthur felt the sting in his eyes. “You've had your turn.” He paused, swallowing. “Now it's mine.”

Arthur brought the horn to his lips and blew. He saw his father’s lips moving, but could not hear what he said as he vanished, as if blown by the wind.

Arthur’s eyes met Merlin’s and he let out a choked sob. Merlin huffed a relieved breath and suddenly Arthur was moving ahead, throwing the horn to the side. He removed the spears one at the time with determination and held Merlin up with his own body when his servant’s knees threatened to give out under his weight.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, cradling Merlin’s face between his hands and joining their foreheads while they panted together. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Merlin huffed, grasping Arthur’s arms to keep him from moving away. His eyes were red and shining with tears. “I’m alright.”

“Did he say anything to you? Did he know about you?” Arthur asked and watched Merlin’s eyes go round. “Did he know about us?” Arthur pressed more urgently.

Merlin closed his eyes, exhaling. “No. I mean,” he swallowed and frowned. “I don’t know. He said some pretty awful things-”

“Forget them,” Arthur said fiercely, looking into his eyes. “He doesn’t understand what you mean to me. He can’t understand.”

Merlin’s face went lax. “Arthur…” he whispered, his fingers digging on Arthur’s arms.

Arthur kissed him with desperation and Merlin responded in kind, bringing him closer and gasping. When Arthur backed his head off, Merlin followed the movement until he could not keep their lips joined anymore. They stared into each other’s eyes. Merlin’s thumb smeared some of the moisture on Arthur’s cheekbone, looking a bit bewildered.

“I cannot lose you,” Arthur whispered. “You know that, right?”

“You won’t. Ever.”

“I can’t lose any of you.”

Arthur kissed him without acknowledging how Merlin’s shoulders sagged a little after that last comment.

.oOo.

“You should move upstairs,” Arthur said later, when they were lying side by side on the bed after giving and taking pleasure from each other.

“What?” Merlin asked, sounding confused.

Arthur turned on his side to look at him. “I said you should move to one of the guest chambers up here. How about the  next one on the left, facing the Square?”

Merlin chuckled. “Right. No one would find it strange if you gave your servant the chamber reserved for your most esteemed guest.”

Arthur shrugged. “Who cares what they might think? It’d be nothing but convenient for both of us. And if anyone asks, I could tell them it's so I don't have to go around the castle searching for you every morning. I could call you with a shout!”

Merlin stared at  him for a moment before propping himself up on his elbows, eyeing Arthur as if he had gone insane. “You know people won't buy it, right? You’d be publicly declaring me as your concubine.”

“Again, who cares?”

“I care!” Merlin said, now looking offend. “What would I tell everybody? What would I tell Gaius? I can't simply leave his chambers.”

It was Arthur's turn to look affronted as he sat on the bed as well. “And why couldn't you?”

“I'm his apprentice, remember? Contrary to what you think, I have a life outside of my service for you!”

“I'm your King, remember?” Arthur mimicked Merlin's intonation. “Therefore your duty to me comes first. And if I order you to move to another chamber-”

“You’ll be asking to be disobeyed!” Merlin cut him off.

“Merlin!” Arthur admonished between gritted teeth.

Merlin reached for Arthur's arm to stop him from saying any further. “Arthur, I understand what you're trying to do and I appreciate that you wish to keep me closer to you. But Gaius is an old man. He’s like a father to me. I already spend some nights here with you. Please don't make me abandon him for good.”

As much as Arthur resented Merlin's blunt refusal, those words disarmed him and he let himself fall back on the bed. “Fine. You're the one who’ll have to continue walking around the castle most of the time, anyway. Often after dark. Alone.”

Merlin smiled and shook his head, laying down beside him, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder. “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”

“Says the man who was nearly killed by a ghost tonight.”

“But you took care of it. There are no ghosts in this castle anymore. At least as long as you keep that horn in the vaults.”

“No one will touch it again,” Arthur assured him with finality.

“Good,” Merlin said and sighed contently when Arthur brought him closer.

It didn't take long for Merlin to fall asleep and Arthur had to move carefully not to wake him as he stood up and got dressed. Arthur pulled the sheet over Merlin's naked body just in case any maid would come in, since it was nearly dawn. He walked down the corridors, nodding to acknowledge his guards as he went.

Gaius was asleep on his cot when Arthur entered his chambers, but there were two guards standing at the door of Merlin's narrow room, watching for the Queen's wellbeing. They stepped aside to let Arthur in without a word.

Arthur stood at the entrance for a moment, watching his wife. It was strange to think how reversed things were right now: Merlin sleeping in Arthur's old chambers and Guinevere lying on Merlin's narrow bed. For a moment, Arthur felt guilty of what he had been up to just minutes before with Merlin while she was recovering from an attempt on her life.

Arthur sighed and sat down on the stool Gaius had placed beside the bed. He searched for one of her hands, holding it between both of his. How could his father do this to him? And worse, how could Arthur have seeked his advice after all Uther had done during his ruling, how could Arthur have forgotten it? He had put the life of his friends and most beloved ones in jeopardy because he failed to believe in his own heart.

He had learned his lesson now. He did not need his father's approval. He had Guinevere and Merlin and his men, his brothers. He must have done something right to earn their loyalty and friendship, no matter how weak his father though he was. He did not regret a thing.

Arthur brought Guinevere's hand to his lips and kissed it. “Get well soon, alright?” he told her and leaned in to kiss her cheek before standing up.

Once he was back at his chambers, he watched Merlin moving restlessly in his sleep. It was getting clearer behind the heavy curtains, but Arthur hadn't had any sleep yet and he felt the tiredness deep in his bones. He undressed and slipped in below the sheets, bringing Merlin into his arms and taking in the familiar smell of his skin.

“You're cold,” Merlin croaked, looking at him from over his shoulder with sleepy eyes. “Where have you been?”

“It doesn't matter, go back to sleep.” Arthur kissed his shoulder.

“It’s almost dawn. Are you giving me the day off?”

“No, I’m just making sure that you're well rested for when I need you again later.”

“Alright,” Merlin said, settling back on the pillows.

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed.

.oOo.

Arthur woke up cursing and kicking. He had almost forgotten the training that afternoon.

“It’s just training, Leon can handle it perfectly without you,” said Merlin, turning to the other side and getting comfortable to sleep again.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed just before he pushed Merlin out of the bed, making him sprawl on the floor, hissing at the cold stone against his naked skin and cursing.

“I promised Mordred I’d help him train with the spear so he can compete on the next tournament and you know I always keep my word,” Arthur said, holding Merlin’s increasingly angry stare. “Now get your lazy bottom up that floor and help me get dressed already, then go fetch my lunch.”

If looks could kill, Arthur would have probably dropped dead right then and there. Fortunately, Merlin chose to obey without uttering a single complaint - that Arthur could hear, and he pretended not to notice his servant’s lips moving soundlessly.

Arthur went to see Guinevere while Merlin disappeared to the kitchens. To his utter relief, Gaius said the Queen was past any risk and was just resting now.

“Let me know the moment she wakes up,” Arthur told the physician before leaving.

By the time they got to the Armory, Merlin seemed to have forgotten his grudge. He looked a bit tense, but whatever was troubling him, did not seem to have anything to do with Arthur pushing him out of bed.

“What is it, Merlin?” he asked, pretending not to care.

Merlin stayed silent for a moment as he helped Arthur into his chain mail. “You really think your father knew about us?”

Arthur frowned before the unexpected question. “He knew about everything else,” he shrugged, spreading his arms so that Merlin could pull the mail over them. “Besides, what other reason would he have to go after you? It’s not like you weren’t my servant before. In fact, it was him who named you so. What other reason would he have to disapprove of you?”

Merlin kept his eyes down as he worked. “Well, I can’t think of anything else.” He turned his back on Arthur to search for his chestplate.

Arthur sat down to make it easier for him. Now that his thoughts had turned back to Uther, he could not stop thinking about what happened. “I always looked up to my father. I admired and respected him more than anyone. I have to accept that I can't please him, and be true to myself.”

Arthur raised his arms when Merlin stopped behind him, waiting.

“Uther did what he thought he had to do to protect the Kingdom.” Merlin said, struggling with the heavy armor.

“That doesn't mean he was right.” Arthur stood up, allowing Merlin to fix the metal plates properly. “I want to build a Kingdom that is fair and just. One where everyone is respected, regardless of rank.”

“Does that include me?” He heard Merlin’s question.

He was taken aback by the question, so much so that he did not have the time to filter his answer. “Of course,” he said honestly.

“So... does that mean you're not going to hit me anymore?”

Arthur frowned. Merlin was still at his back and out of his sight, making it impossible to look at him in the eye. Arthur made sure to let him know how much he disagreed with that accusation. “When do I ever hit you?”

“All the time,” came Merlin’s blunt answer.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “That's not hitting, Merlin. That's... merely friendly slaps. It's horseplay.”

“Oh, can I give you a friendly slap?”

Arthur snorted at that, reaching for his belt. “You can certainly try.”

Arthur got distracted with the buckle, unaware of Merlin’s movements at his back and would have forgotten completely about that conversation if not for the slap to the back of his head.

Arthur stood frozen for a moment, taken completely by surprise. He straightened up his spine and narrowed his eyes before turning around. “What the hell was that?”

“It was…” Merlin swallowed nervously. “Um… horseplay.” He nodded with his head, as if that settled it.

Arthur looked down at the glove Merlin was fiddling with - the very same he had used to hit Arthur - and proceeded to put it on. “No, Merlin, you're doing it all wrong,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “Why don't I show you?”

Arthur made a show of putting the glove on, then closed his hand on a tight fist, making the leather creak as it grinded. He completed the whole scene by sending a menacing look at his servant.

Merlin looked from Arthur’s fist to his face. “Um,” he said again and nearly jumped out of his skin when Arthur lunged at him, moving his arms in an instinctive gesture to protect his face. “Arth-”

Merlin’s surprised shout was muffled by Arthur’s gloved hand covering his mouth.

Arthur pushed him flush against the nearest post holding his wrist up with his bare hand, conscious of how intimidating he was in his armor, but careful not to hurt him. He licked a stripe of skin on the patch of Merlin's neck left exposed by his neckerchief. “You’re lucky I don’t have the time to teach you a lesson now,” Arthur said into Merlin’s ear before grazing his teeth on the flesh he had just licked.

Merlin let out a strangled noise at that. Arthur was reluctant to let go of him, but he forced himself to do so and took a step back, putting some safe distance between them.

Merlin was panting hard, his eyes wide, his body tense. Arthur would have been uncomfortably wounded by Merlin’s seemingly frightened reaction if not for the bulge on his trousers belaying how turned on he had been by Arthur’s blunt assault. He smirked when Merlin tried to cover it by turning around.

“Make sure my gloves are properly oiled up later. We wouldn’t want this fine leather chapped, would we?” He said before grabbing the other glove and leaving the armory.

.oOo.

Later that day, Merlin was whimpering into Arthur's gloved hand while Arthur pounded into him from behind.

Arthur was still mostly dressed, his clothes clinging to his body from all the sweating from training, his left shoulder still throbbing where Mordred had hit him with his spear earlier.

“I saw you watching me,” Arthur said, his lips touching the skin right under Merlin's hairline.

Arthur had felt Merlin's eyes on him during the whole thing, following his every move like a hawk. Whenever Arthur risked looking at him, he would catch Merlin watching him intensely. Merlin had only taken his eyes off his King to send a dark look at Mordred now and again - probably for being the reason Arthur had not stayed in bed with him longer and keeping Arthur from continuing what he had started at the Armory.

Arthur smirked at the thought.

Merlin’s answering whine was muffled by Arthur’s glove. He was still wearing his clothes as well, his breeches hanging around his spread thighs, baring just enough so that Arthur could shove his cock into his tight ass. They were in a hidden corner of the Armory, safe in the knowledge that the training was still going on outside, on the castle grounds, and they could anticipate anyone coming - hence Arthur having to keep his hand over Merlin’s mouth, so that no one could hear them before being heard.

“This one’s for distracting me during the training,” Arthur said and slapped Merlin’s right buttock hard, making him jump from the impact as he braced his forearms on the wall ahead, crying out into Arthur’s hand. “I could swear you did it on purpose just so I’d punish you later.”

Merlin moaned again.

“Admit it, you like it when I’m rough, don’t you? Were you imagining this while you watched me?” Another moan. “Did you picture me with the gloves?” Arthur grabbed Merlin’s reddening ass with fingers covered in leather and slapped it again. “Is this enough horseplay for you or do you want more?”

Arthur took his left hand off Merlin’s face just enough so that his servant could answer with a moaned “Arthur,  _ please- _ ”

“Shhh!” Arthur covered his mouth again and bit the tip of his glove, stripping his right hand before circling Merlin’s waist and grabbing his leaking cock, jerking it in time with his thrusts. “Come on, then, Merlin.”

All it took was a few rough strokes and Merlin was shuddering as he climaxed, panting hard on Arthur’s hand. Arthur let go of his mouth then and grabbed his hips with both hands, slamming into him some more until he was spilling his seed with a long grunt, closing his eyes at the waves of pleasure and relief.

With Merlin still bracing himself on the wall, Arthur pulled out of him and looked down, raising the edge of Merlin’s tunic to stare at Merlin’s behind. His right cheek was flushed red from Arthur’s assaut, contrasting beautifully with the untouched left side. Arthur caressed it lightly and watched Merlin flinch away from his touch with a whimper.

Arthur leaned in to plant a soft kiss on Merlin’s nape with a hint of regret now that his body was cooling off. “You alright?”

Merlin nodded, turning his head to the side so that Arthur could see him. “I’m fine.”

“You should put salve on it,” Arthur said, taking off the remaining glove and pulling his breaches back up, lacing them as he took a step back. “Don’t you keep some salve down here?”

“There must be some left, yes,” Merlin said, moving slowly as he fixed his own breeches back on, leaning with his back on the wall.

Arthur rotated his sore shoulder. “On second thought, bring it to my chambers. You can rub my chest with it after my bath.”

Arthur was already planning on applying the salve on Merlin himself, making sure he was properly taken care off when they heard hurried footsteps approaching through the corridor. Cursing, Arthur stepped out of their hidden corner quickly, fixing his hair and making sure he was decent just when a kitchen boy rounded the corner, looking relieved at spotting him.

“My Lord,” the boy bowed reverently, his cheeks flushing. “The Queen is awake.”

“Oh,” Arthur felt a wave of shame at Guinevere’s mention. With all that seduction game going on with Merlin, he had not spared a single thought to his convalescent wife during the whole afternoon. How worse of a husband could he be yet? “Great. Thank you for telling me. I’m on my way to see her.”

The boy bowed again. “Yes, My Lord. Um,” he looked uncertain, peeking at some point over Arthur’s shoulder. “Gaius also sent me to fetch Merlin to run some errands for him. That is, if Your Highness is to release him.”

“I’m not,” Arthur said, still keeping his back to his manservant. “Merlin’s not dismissed yet. He’s to prepare me a bath. If it’s just some errands, Gaius might as well use your help.”

“O-of course, Sire,” the servant stuttered, his cheeks turning red. “With your permission, Sire,” he bowed one last time before leaving.

“What if Gaius needs me to help him treat Gwen?” Merlin said at his back when they were left alone again.

Arthur looked over his shoulder. “He would have been more specific,” he said dryly, finding it easy to lash out on Merlin, even if he was not to blame for Arthur’s sudden sour mood. “I’ll let you know if your  _ specific _ assistance is required by him. Now go draw me that bath already.”

Arthur turned his back on Merlin’s scowling face and headed for Gaius’ chambers while Merlin moved to the opposite side, towards the Kitchens. Arthur made sure to grab a daisy from a flower pot on his way up.

Thankfully, Guinevere’s recover was quick. She sent Arthur a reproachful look when he confessed to keeping his trip to the magic stones from her, but she must have had pity on him for she soon sighed and squeezed his hand in support, thanking him for the flower.

.oOo.

A couple of weeks after that, they were surprised by an unexpected visitor at the castle. Princess Mithian had showed up during the night, looking distressed and exhausted, as Leon had reported. After granting her some rest, Arthur and Guinevere met her in the Council Chambers and learned that Odin had attacked their realm and showed no mercy. She and her father had managed to escape, but King Rodor had been wounded and Mithian left him behind to seek for their aid in rescuing him.

Arthur did not bother to ask for his wife’s advice on this, assuring Mithian he would do everything on his power to help her. The rest of the day was spent in planning and preparing for their ride the next morning, therefore he only got to see Guinevere again in their chambers, while he was going through the maps one last time before bed. She did not waste any time questioning him about his motives for risking his own life and those of his men in such a dangerous quest just for Mithian’s father sake.

“It was Odin who took your father's life,” Guinevere argued when Arthur pretended not to understand what she was implying. “You can't deny that you have been waiting for a chance to retaliate.”

Arthur was about to defend himself against that accusation when he thought better of it, trying to understand her point of view. He stood up and walked towards her. “What I feel about Odin, has nothing to do with this,” Arthur assured her.

“Really?”

“Absolutely not. This is about helping our friends, no more, no less.”

“Good.” She nodded. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“You were right to ask.” Arthur said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I rely on your honesty, Guinevere. And I love you for it.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and walked back towards his desk, dismissing the nagging feeling deep inside of him that accused him of lying, not only to his wife but to himself as well.

.oOo.

The next morning, while Merlin helped him get dressed, Arthur could tell there was something off by the press of his servant’s lips, but Merlin did not say anything until they were out of the royal chambers.

“Sire! Wait!” Merlin said, running to catch up with him while carrying their provisions.

Arthur sighed tiredly. “What is it?”

“This mission, Sire-”

“It's too dangerous so I shouldn't go.” Arthur completed for him.

Merlin failed to catch his sarcasm, for he looked relieved. “Yeah, you were thinking the same thing?”

“No, I'm thinking that's exactly what you always say, but here I am. Two legs, two arms, my own teeth.” Arthur started to walk away, praying for Merlin to let it go, just this once...

“I've got a funny feeling that there is something we're missing.” Merlin said as he followed close to him because why wouldn't he? “Something we don't know?”

“But you can't say what exactly.” Arthur anticipated again.

“No.”

“No.” Arthur repeated, trying to make him realize how weak of an argument it sounded. 

Merlin continued, though, stubbornly oblivious. “Maybe we should delay the mission? Until we have all the facts at our disposal.”

“Fine.” Arthur stopped again to stare at him, tired of being too subtle. “Oh, do you want to tell Princess Mithian that we decided to let her father die because you have a funny feeling?” Arthur suggested, watching Merlin stare back at him, speechless for once. “I didn't think so,” Arthur said and turned his back on him one last time, putting an effective end to that conversation.

Again, Arthur ignored the persistent feeling telling him he was being stubborn himself. Authough Merlin did not offer any consistent argument for his “funny feeling”, he had the annoying tendency to be right.

Even if Arthur was to admit Guinevere and Merlin had a point, there was nothing that could dissuade him from moving on with that rescuing mission, anyway. He could never turn his back on a friend in need and they both should know it by now.

It did not stop Merlin from trying again, though.

“Arthur?” He called when they were sitting by the fire on their first camp, having supper. “Are you sure this is the right thing to be doing?”

Arthur looked at him, noticing his distressed face. “Ah. Your funny feeling again, is it?” He tried to make light of it, but Merlin's expression remained somber still.

“Something like that.”

“Have you been talking to Guinevere?”

“No. Why do you ask?” Merlin questioned, to what Arthur shook his head. Merlin did not seem keen on letting it go, though. “Did she have doubts about you rescuing Rodor?”

Arthur considered denying, but ended up choosing to be honest, for once. “Odin is a plague on this land. I can't just stand by and let him murder Mithian's father as he murdered my own.”

Merlin held his stare with intent and honesty, as only he could. “I know what he did. God knows I understand why you hate him. But to risk so much for one small act of revenge…”

Arthur averted his eyes for a moment, Merlin's words reaching deep inside of him. Instead of trying to tell him wrong, Arthur tried a different approach, calling for Merlin's empathy. “Tell me Merlin. If you were me. If you were in my shoes. Would you do any different?”

Merlin swallowed hard. “Probably… not,” he admitted.

His eyes spoke about understanding, as always, and Arthur knew Merlin to be putting himself on his King’s shoes. Satisfied with it, Arthur resumed eating his supper, but the quiet of the moment was broken by Mithian’s maid’s cry of distress and Merlin hurried to help her, calling for Gaius’ help. Hilda was a very old lady, it must have been truly hard for her to keep up with her mistress during all that misfortune.

The next morning, it was Leon who tried to change Arthur’s mind about following with his plan, after the patrol reported of Odin's men. “Sire we have but few.” He reasoned. “If we are seen, there is no escape. Wouldn't it be wise to remain here?”

“Out of the question.” Arthur said, unwavering. “Time is a luxury we don't have.”

“We have good cover.” Leon insisted. “With any luck the patrols will pass us by soon enough and-”

“Press on for Nemeth.” Arthur looked his second in command in the eye, trying to make him see just how set he was on his resolution. “Make ready to depart,” he ordered, walking away before Leon could say any more.

He went to see if Merlin had everything prepared for leaving, but he could not find his servant anywhere.

“Have you seen Merlin?” Arthur asked Gaius.

Gaius looked at some scattered things on the floor, frowning. “He was right here just this moment!”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur looked around, signaling for his nearest Knights. “See if any of you can find my useless servant. We need to hurry.”

“Merlin!” Arthur searched around the abandoned ruins they had camped around, more annoyed by the second. Honestly, Merlin had chosen the worst moments to disappear. Arthur swore he would throw his servant in the stocks if he found him sleeping or distractedly looking for herbs.

“Here!” Arthur heard someone answer from the stream side. “He’s here.”

Arthur cursed and went for his sword while hurrying back inside the ruins. When he caught up with his men, he found Percival lowering an unconscious Merlin on a stone bench, helped by Gwaine.

“What happened?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“Hilda found him,” Percival said, stepping aside so that Gaius could examine him.

“He was down by the river,” Hilda explained. “He must have fallen.”

Arthur cursed his servant’s clumsiness inwardly. It sounded like something Merlin would do.

“Gaius?” Arthur asked the physician, taking in Merlin’s bloodied face. If not for the wound on his hairline, it would look like he was sleeping. It could not have been that bad, could it?

“He's taken a heavy blow to the head.”

“But he'll be alright?”

“He should be fine, Sire, but there is no telling when he will regain consciousness.”

Arthur looked around, taking in the worried faces of his closest Knights, all of them waiting for their King’s decision. A decision that Arthur had taken already. There would be no other chance for him to take the upper hand against Odin, he only wished he did not have to leave Merlin behind.

“We can't wait for him,” Arthur stated, even though it pained him to say so. “Not if we're to stand a chance at reaching Rodor before Odin's men.” He hesitated, his eyes caught by the way Gwaine was still crouching beside Merlin, seeming reluctant to leave him there. He sighed. “Gwaine, stay here with Merlin and Gaius. The rest of us make for Nemeth.”

They followed Mithian's lead toward the tomb where King Rodor was hiding. When they got to the ruins, Arthur instructed his men to stay guarding the entrance except for Percival, who joined him inside.

They walked past some corridors until they reached a chamber with a tomb in the center, but no sign of Rodor or anyone else.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “I don't understand. Where's your father?” He questioned Mithian, who seemed unable to hold his stare for too long.

“He’s not here,” she said, acting strangely. In fact, now that Arthur stopped to think about it, she had been acting very disquietly from the very beginning of their journey, only Arthur had assumed it was because of the delicate situation she had left her father in. Now, he was beginning to ask if Rodor had ever been in real danger at all.

His doubts were of no use now, for soon they were surrounded by Odin's men, about two dozen of them against him and Percival only. The disadvantage did not stop them from fighting, though.

Predictably, they ended up subdued and Arthur got face to face with Odin. The man was blind by vengeance and did not seem appeased by taking Arthur’s father’s life. He wanted Arthur killed and it became clear nothing would stop him until he had it done with. When Hilda revealed herself to be Morgana, it all became clear what had truly happened with Mithian and Merlin. Arthur cursed Merlin’s funny feelings and hoped he would be spared while resigning to his own fate, at the tip of Odin’s sword. Arthur had signed his sentence long before, when he killed Odin’s son, and no matter how much he had already paid for it, he would never be redeemed. Maybe he had been doomed by it from the very beginning. Maybe he deserved to die at this man’s hands, after all.

Arthur sent one last thought to Merlin and Guinevere, hoping they were fine, hoping they would manage to avoid Morgana, if not defeat her, as he had failed to do. He had failed his father, his sister, his wife, his servant and his Kingdom. He should have listened to Guinevere, instead of pursuing that revenge. He should have listened to Merlin when he tried to dissuade him. He should have recognized Morgana from the very beginning!

He should have been a better King.

When Odin was preparing his deadly strike, there was a thunder and Arthur started to shake from his very core. It took some time for him to realize he was not dead. The ground was shaking, as was the whole building around them. At their captors’ momentary hesitance, Arthur took the chance to strike. He freed himself from the lax grip on his arms and grabbed a sword. He passed it on to Percival, who had taken the moment to fight too, and found another weapon to himself, ready to go down fighting if they were to be buried under those stones.

Arthur was about to defend himself from an attacker when the man fell on the ground like a sack of potatoes, showing no other than Merlin behind him, with a sword in hand.

“Merlin!” Arthur cried out, stunned.

“Hurry, this way,” Merlin said to Mithian and Rodor, showing the way out of the crumbling building without hesitance.

Arthur did not waste any time either, leading the way out. He was sure Morgana would find a way of blocking their escape, but it never happened. Once outside, they run straight to Odin’s men, but they were prepared to fight now. Even Rodor had managed to find a sword  - Merlin’s borrowed sword, as it happened - and was defending himself while Merlin kept Mithian safe.

There were more men approaching and Arthur spotted Odin amongst them, so he made the choice of separating. He told Percival to lead Mithian and Rodor to safety while he and Merlin lead Odin to the other direction. Merlin followed without a word, keeping up with Arthur’s pace as they ran… straight to a dead end.

Arthur looked at the walls of the ravine they found themselves at the pit of and exchanged a look with Merlin. Arthur did not feel the need to say anything, nor Merlin, for they turned around silently to face their pursuers.

Arthur was prepared to fight until the end. He would protect Merlin with his own life, even though they were both probably doomed, for the numbers were far against them. Only Odin surprised them by ordering his men out of the fight, willing to fight Arthur himself, one on one.

Arthur stepped ahead with surety. He was determined to end it here, for better or worst. He did not fight as much as defend himself from Odin’s angered strikes. The man was a good opponent, but he was no match for Arthur, who had him unarmed and on his knees in no time.

“Arthur,” he heard Merlin’s voice at his back just when he had Odin at the right end of his sword. “Stop. Think about what you're doing. What good will this achieve?”

Arthur looked deep into Odin’s eyes, into the man who had ordered Uther killed so cowardly. He remembered his father collapsing in his arms after telling his son for the first and single time how much he was proud of him.

“How many times have you talked about uniting this land?” Merlin continued, stepping closer. “Will killing this man make that dream any closer?

Arthur should not listen to Merlin. Not in front of Odin, not ever. He was just a servant, after all.

Except he was not just a servant. He was Arthur’s friend, the person he most trusted; the person who would always put Arthur’s and Camelot’s best interest above everything else, above his own desires and feeling even. As should Arthur.

“He is right,” Arthur admitted, panting from the fight. “This is no answer.”

“Finish it,” Odin said angrily. “Finish it and be done.”

“And what then?” Arthur looked at Odin’s men standing behind him, hands on their swords. “Your people will seek their revenge. A war without an end.”

“There is no other way,” Odin breathed out.

“There is another way,” Arthur assured.

He offered Odin his life in exchange for him restoring Rodor to Nemeth’s throne and a truce for them both, but Odin seemed relentless.

“You killed my son,” he said.

“You killed my father!” Arthur screamed right back at him. “We have both lost much at the other’s hand. Let us loose no more, I am offering you the chance to end this. Take it!” Arthur threw his sword to the ground and offered his hand to the man. “Take it.”

And bless him, Odin took it.

The look of pride in Merlin’s eyes after the pact was worth all of it. No vengeance could have tasted more satisfying than watching Merlin’s contained smile and his discreet nod of approval.

Guinevere wasn’t so discreet. “You could have killed Odin, you had every reason,” she said when Arthur returned. “You did something far more important. You gave the people of this land hope for the future. I'm proud of you.”

“Merlin should take some of the credit,” Arthur admitted. “Turns out he's not always entirely stupid.”

Guinevere smiled. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don't tell him whatever you do. I'll never hear the end of it.”

.oOo.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say about the calm before the storm? Well, this chapter's not exactly light and breezy, but things are about to go downhill again, so... enjoy!

Arthur did not notice Merlin’s change of manner towards Mordred right away. It was something subtle, which Arthur took some time to connect. Mordred’s skills in sword fighting was improving, but the boy had yet much to learn and Arthur saw nothing but potential in him.

“Mordred used a contre quarte to my high-line attack. It was skillfully done,” Arthur was commenting when he entered the royal chambers to change, still feeling excited from the training.

“Really?” Merlin asked, sounding poorly impressed.

“You do understand what a contre quarte is?” Arthur checked, moving behind the partition to undress. Not out of modesty, for Merlin knew his body too well and it would be too much hypocrisy on his part to pretend otherwise, but out of respect for his wife, even though Guinevere was not in their shared chambers at the moment.

“At a guess, a type of parry, beginning in the quarte position, ending with a twist of the wrist.”

Arthur was impressed by Merlin’s assertive answer. “You  _ have _ been paying attention. And what do you think of young Mordred?”

“He's, er, making progress.”

Arthur continued undressing, listening when the door to the adjacent room opened, signaling Guinevere was walking in. “He has all the makings of a fine Knight, don't you think?” Arthur pressed on.

“There are many fine Knights in Camelot,” Merlin said somewhat flatly.

“Yes, but if I'm not mistaken, he'll be one of the finest, and I'm determined he'll receive nothing but encouragement from me,” Arthur dumped his clothes over the partition right over where he imagined Merlin to be in a humorous provocation, and stood waiting for Merlin’s call out on him, but it never happened.

“Of course, My Lord,” he heard Merlin saying and peeked from around the partition, watching him fumble with his master’s dirty clothes as he kept his eyes down. “I’ll bring these down to wash while you bathe, if you’ll excuse me, Sire.”

Merlin walked out before Arthur could say anything.

Frowning, Arthur looked at his wife, who was putting her jewelry on. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked.

“I assume you were talking about Mordred?” Guinevere said without bothering to look at him.

“Yes, and Merlin was acting… strange,” Arthur said as he stepped into the tub. The water was a little on the cold side, but it was not like Merlin was there for him to complain, so he set to wash before it ran colder. “On second thought, maybe he was just avoiding his work, lazy oaf that he is.”

“Sure,” Guinevere sounded distracted.

Arthur looked at her from over his shoulder. “Do you mind rubbing my back?”

Guinevere sighed, finally raising her eyes at him. “If I must. But don’t you dare wet my dress.”

“I would never,” Arthur said, hiding a smirk.

A few moments later, he had Guinevere squeaking as he pulled her into the tub with him; dress, jewelry and all. He cursed the heavy wet fabric when it clung to her skin later as he fought to undress her.

.oOo.

The day was ruined when Arthur learned about Sir Ranulf’s death that same afternoon by the hand of a known sorcerer. Arthur set to lead a patrol himself to bring the man to justice and sent Merlin to pack up.

Guinevere was not very pleased to hear it, though. “You have many fine men to avenge him,” she argued when Arthur insisted on going.

“He wasn't just a Knight, Guinevere, he was a friend,” Arthur tried to make her understand. “We knew each other as boys. I must go.”

Guinevere looked down, sighing.

“Have no fear,” Arthur continued in an attempt to cheer her up. “I will be perfectly safe. As you say, I have many fine Knights.”

Guinevere blinked with a soft resigned expression. There was a knock on the door before she could say another word.

“Yes?” Arthur said and watched Mordred come in.

“You wished to see me, Sire?”

“Ah, Mordred, come in, come in,” Arthur called, placing an open map on the table for the young Knight to see. “The time has come for you to accompany your King,” he announced.

Mordred looked surprised out of words for a moment. “My Lord?”

“I want you to join me on a patrol to the Black Mountains.”

“Me?” Mordred sounded astounded. “To Brechfa?”

Arthur nodded. “Congratulations.”

“This is a great honour. I-”

“You have earned your place,” Arthur interrupted the boy, patting him on the arm. “Be ready to ride at dawn.”

“I shall be, My Lord,” he said, grateful. He turned to leave, but looked back before stepping out. “You won't regret this. I promise.”

Arthur turned to see Guinevere smiling at the closed door when they were left alone again. “He has all the makings of an excellent Knight,” he repeated what he had said to Merlin before, allowing his pride to show.

“I do believe you've grown fond of him,” Guinevere stated, amused.

Arthur smiled at his wife. She knew him too well. “One of those things I do,” he admitted.

.oOo.

Merlin did not approve of Arthur’s decision to bring Mordred with them, though. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked while the other Knights teased the younger one.

Arthur shrugged. “He's a good fighter, a brave Knight.”

“He's very young,” Merlin stated, matter of factly.

Arthur found it amusing. “Where would any of us be, Merlin, if no one had given us a chance?” he asked instead of reasoning. He mounted his horse and nodded his farewell to his Queen before calling his men and leading the way.

He was halfway across the square when he noticed Merlin was not following him close and looked back to see him talking to Guinevere. “Merlin!” he called and waited until Merlin reached his position before kicking his horse to quicken the pace.

Even though the matter was serious, the Knights had their fun at Mordred’s innexperience’s expense. Merlin was oddly quiet, but Arthur found it best not to comment on it. They spotted the sorcerer, Osgar, by mid afternoon and spread out to try and trap him. Arthur kept Merlin and Mordred close as he searched for Osgar, but ended up found by the man instead.

Osgar was mortally injured and did not attack him, saying some confusing nonsense about passing judgement of gods and redemption. He solemnly handed Arthur an object, a sigil of sorts, and passed away. Just like that.

Astounded, Arthur kept the object for further examination and went to gather his men. Gwaine and Elyan were a little groggy, but not seriously injured. Merlin tended to their wounds after they set camp.

“You are a skilled physician, Merlin,” Mordred complimented.

Merlin kept his back to them, tending to the fire. “I've watched Gaius, that's all,” he said dismissively.

“He also makes a very fine breakfast, as you'll soon discover, eh, Merlin?” Arthur teased and watched Merlin’s back stiffen. “Now I've offended him,” he mock-whispered at Mordred, making the boy laugh. “Come, Merlin, warm yourself, have a drink,” Arthur grabbed his own cup of warm wine and held it up in a toast. “To young Mordred and his first successful mission.”

“It was nothing,” Mordred said humbly.

“It was timely and vigilant,” Arthur insisted. He noticed Merlin had not moved to join them in their toast, keeping his distance to the rest of them. “Merlin!”

Merlin offered a forced smile and his voice was husky when he said his compliment. “Congratulations.”

“If he died and was granted eternal happiness, I do believe he'd find reason to be miserable,” Arthur teased some more, but Merlin looked down, still not taking the bait. “Come, Merlin, we've triumphed!”

Merlin looked down before facing Arthur again. “Osgar could have easily killed you,” he said seriously.

“But he didn't, did he?”

“He was a sorcerer, it was quite within his power,” Merlin reproached.

“He was deranged,” Arthur argued back. He couldn’t understand why Merlin was making such a fuss about what could have happened.

“And the runemark?” Merlin asked.

Arthur grabbed the sigil, turning it around in his hands indifferently.  “A trinket. Nothing more. Here,” he threw it to Merlin, who caught it in the air and started to examine it closely. “I'll have the jeweller mount it as a memento of our success.”

When none of Arthur’s attempts seemed to cheer Merlin up, Arthur waited until his men settled to sleep and called Merlin to join him on a patrol on the grounds near their camp. Percival, who was to remain on the first vigil, had already searched the surroundings, but he did not comment on it when they past him on their way.

Merlin was still awfully quiet up to the point Arthur pushed him up against a tree, when he huffed a surprised breath.

Arthur put his palm over his servant’s mouth, silencing him. “Shhh. They’ll hear us.”

Arthur replaced his hand by his mouth then, but Merlin pulled away.

“Arthur, what if they see us?”

“They’ll have an eyeful of none of their business,” Arthur said, holding Merlin’s chin up to look him in the eye. “I’d kiss you right in front of them if that’s what it’d take for you to  _ relax _ . Nothing happened. I’m fine. We’re all fine. Now stop thinking before you hurt yourself.”

Arthur did not let him say anything else, kissing Merlin’s lips until his arms looped around Arthur’s neck and he sighed.

“Your armour’s digging at my groin,” Merlin complained a few minutes later, when Arthur tried to rub himself on Merlin’s leg.

“You should get on your knees then,” Arthur suggested.

“Prat,” Merlin said, but complied anyway. He unlaced his King’s breeches and all but stuck his head under Arthur’s chain mail to swallow his cock.

Arthur grunted and braced his hands on the tree trunk, struggling to remain alert to his surroundings while Merlin teased his cock head with his expert tongue, keeping a firm grip on Arthur’s hips to steady him and keep the mail from getting on the way. Arthur ended up closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling as Merlin bobbed his head, taking him deeper still at every move.

Arthur let Merlin take his time teasing him with a slow pace until he was done waiting. He planted his feet firmer on the ground and held Merlin’s head still with one hand, moving his hips in fast, deep jerks. He felt Merlin’s sharp intake of breath now and again, whenever Arthur would allow him enough room to breath, but Merlin did not try to back off, closing his eyes and taking it until he choked on Arthur’s semen.

Arthur relaxed his grip on Merlin’s hair when Merlin pulled away sputtering and wiping his face where some of Arthur’s seed had landed on his cheek.

“Alright?” Arthur asked carding Merlin’s thick strands of hair with his nails. His own breathing was hard and his heart thumping fast.

Merlin shook his head affirmatively. “I’m fine,” he assured, closing his eyes at the caress. Sometimes he looked like a needy puppy dog, where Guinevere was a lioness. They were so different and yet Arthur cared for them so deeply.

“Come here, then. Let me take care of you.”

Merlin stood up, massaging his knees with a grimace. Without bothering to push his own breeches up, Arthur unlaced Merlin’s and pressed him back against the tree, kissing him while stroking his cock firmly with his calloused hand. Merlin moaned softly against Arthur’s lips as he climaxed and Arthur wiped his hand on the tree, keeping Merlin up with his own weight when his servant’s knees faltered.

“How are you feeling now?” Arthur asked, raising one eyebrow.

Merlin licked his lips. “Sleepy.”

“See? Such a lazy oaf,” Arthur said fondly, giving his servant a light slap on the cheek before pulling away and starting to fix his own clothes. “Come on, let’s go back before they come looking for us.”

Merlin followed him back on slightly wobbly legs, but if Percival noticed it or the stains on Merlin’s knees, he never asked about it.

.oOo.

As much as that stolen moment of intimacy soother Arthur, it did nothing to improve Merlin’s disposition. The servant kept somber and serious and nothing Arthur did seemed to break through his dark mood.

“Are you feeling alright, Merlin?” Arthur asked once they got back to the castle, following Merlin through the corridors towards Gaius’ chambers.

“Quite, My Lord,” Merlin said without stopping or faltering.

“Only, more and more I find your face resembles the back end of a cat.” Arthur waited for a reaction that never came. “See, you don't even laugh at my jokes anymore. Seriously.”

Merlin finally slowed down until he stopped, turning around to face him.

“I haven't seen you smile these past three days,” Arthur tried to keep his tone light, even though he was beginning to worry.

“I'm not sure there is a great deal to smile about,” Merlin stated plainly.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something but gave it up, rolling his eyes and sighing, defeated. He continued to follow Merlin towards the physician's chambers.

Gaius asked him to seat down and his tone was very grave when he explained about the runemark the sorcerer had presented him with and it’s meaning to the Old Religion and their higher court, the so called Disir. Gaius repeated Osgar’s words about the judgment of some gods Arthur did not believe in and about his fate.

“I make my own path,” Arthur said dismissively, getting up from his seat and starting to walk away.

“Do you?” Gaius asked in a looming tone, making Arthur stop. “It is said that only the gods can alter a man's fate. And even then, only when he repents and appeases them.”

Arthur considered the man’s words, frowning. “You don't believe any of this?” He asked, walking back to the old man’s desk. “Gaius?” He insisted when the physician avoided answering to his King.

Gaius exchanged a meaningful look with Merlin before putting the runemark down. “I am an old man, Sire. Old enough to be wary of dismissing other people's beliefs.”

Gaius’ words kept repeating themselves over and over in Arthur’s head during the whole day. Was this the reason Merlin was so worried? Did he also believe in those superstitions? What if they were not superstitions after all? What was he found guilty of? He had not persecuted the practicers of the Old Religion like his father did, he was only upholding the law to keep his people safe! Should he have let Osgar walk away after he killed one of his Knights? Was that what they expected of him? He was a King, he had a duty to protect his people and his men and make justice by them if they were wronged. Why would The Disir be so hard on him?

“I am not my father,” Arthur said to Merlin while changing out of his chain mail.

“No,” Merlin answered even though it had not been a question.

“Then why do they judge me so?”

“I'm not sure I'm the person to ask.”

“I am asking you, Merlin.” Arthur walked closer to him, adjusting his own belt. “Man to man.”

For some reason, Merlin’s smile was slightly embarrassed, as if he was trying to make light of his own words. “Well, perhaps they feel you are worthy enough to be judged.”

Arthur frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Judgement is wasted on a… man who won't listen.” Merlin said, straightforwardly.

“You think I should take them seriously?”

Merlin looked down, shifting his feet somewhat nervously. “I think you already have,” he said and it was Arthur’s turn to look away, thinking.

“If there's nothing else...?” Merlin asked and Arthur did not register his words for a moment until he noticed the silence that followed.

“No. Thank you,” he dismissed his servant and watched him leave.

By nightfall, Arthur was still musing about all that, fumbling with the runemark and trying to think about what to do from now on. Guinevere found him at his desk, bringing a plate of food after noticing he hadn't eaten at supper, but Arthur could not bring himself to taste anything.

“He was a deranged, desperate man. You said so yourself,” she reasoned, taking in his distress.

“Merlin was right,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “He could have killed me, but instead he thought it was more important to give me this,” Arthur showed her the object, “and he gave his life in doing so.”

“Who can fathom the mind of a fanatic?” Guinevere dismissed it, but she had not been there, she could not understand.

“That wasn't what was in his eyes, Guinevere. There was no hatred there. It was something else. Pity almost. Why would a sorcerer pity a King?”

“Come, eat something,” she tried to distract him.

Arthur couldn't stop wondering, though. “What if The Disir are right? What if I have transgressed in some way? What if I have put Camelot in danger?” He looked at his Queen, waiting for an answer.

“Arthur, you are a good and just King.”

Arthur knew she was being honest. She most likely really believed that to be true, yet he could not help doubting it. “The Disir don't seem to think so.”

Guinevere walked around his chair, placing her hands in his shoulders. “That is because they don't know you like I do.” She rested her chin on the side of his head comfortingly. “If they did, they would feel nothing but love.” She placed a sweet kiss on his cheek.

Arthur rested his head on her arm and allowed her to caress his hair, but his mind was far, far away.

.Merlin.

He could not sleep that night and he couldn’t wait until dawn to make a decision either, so he walked down to Gaius’ chambers and asked for the location of the Disir. He told a sleep-ruffled and startled Merlin to prepare for their departure in the morning and turned his back on them after averting his eyes from the soft looking tunic Merlin had been sleeping with.

Before they left on their journey to the Black Mountains, Mordred came searching for Arthur in the main square, asking to join them.

“It is not for novices, Mordred,” Arthur said, not bothering to look back at him while checking his horse’s saddle.

“Did I not serve you well?” The boy asked.

“You did.”

“Then I will do again.”

Arthur turned to face him, then. “It is no mere sorcerer this time, Mordred. Our mission is dangerous - in ways we cannot perhaps imagine.”

“Then you will need good men by your side,” Mordred said, getting Arthur’s full attention. “Let me serve, let me do my duty.”

Arthur could not say he was surprised by the young Knight’s initiative. He had seen the potential there before, yet he felt proud at being proven right. He looked around, searching for Merlin - who looked away, probably having witnessed the exchange. “Merlin! See to it that he has everything he needs.”

They reached the cave after following Gaius’ instructions and Merlin said something about the place being sacred and even suggested they should walk in unarmed, but Arthur dismissed it like the stupid superstition it certainly was and walked in to demand an explanation from The Disir about their judgement of him.

The three priestesses took turns telling him they were not the ones to judge, but some unheard-of goddess Arthur had somehow angered by denying the Old Religion.

“Embrace the ways of the Old Religion, Arthur,” they said. “Or risk the ire of the Goddess, the destruction of everything you most value, the end of your reign, the fall of Camelot itself.”

“I refuse to be judged by those who do not know me,” Arthur said, raising his voice with outrage. How dare them threaten him like this?

“You are known, Arthur. You have always been known. And now you come here, to the most sacred of the sacred, to the very heart of the Old Religion, with weapons drawn, trampling hallowed relics, treating our sacred space like you do your Kingdom. With arrogance, with conceit, with insolence.”

Arthur was rendered speechless before these words. He felt like he had been slapped in the face. It certainly was not him they were talking about. Arthur wasn’t arrogant. He was a fair and just King. He had brought peace to his Kingdom. His people followed and trusted him. Guinevere and Merlin believed in him. Were they lying to him? Were they painting him on a good light just to stroke his ego this whole time?

“Enough!” Said Gwaine, stepping up to defend his King. “You speak of the King!”

One of The Disir send him flying back with the slightest nod of her head. Arthur drew his sword then, as did his men. Arthur saw the spear fly towards him and was ready to defend himself but he did not have the chance, for someone jumped in front of him and took it in his place.

Arthur watched Mordred falling limp on the ground and panicked.

“Merlin!” Arthur called, helping Percival lift Mordred to drag him out. “Pull back,” he ordered the retreat, praying that Mordred was not dead.

Once outside, Arthur cradled Mordred’s upper body on his lap. The boy still had a pulse and seemed to be hallucinating, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Arthur waited for Merlin’s examination, keeping his eyes fixed on his servant,  attentive  on any indication of Mordred’s state.

“It is not a simple wound,” Merlin stated at Arthur’s impatient inquiring. “Sorcery is involved.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Arthur pressed.

Merlin did not answer right away. He seemed absorbed in his examination as he prodded Mordred’s wound, his look far away for a moment. “This is beyond my skill, Sire,” he decided at last. “We need to get him back to Camelot.”

Arthur sighed. “That is a long and arduous journey. What if he doesn't survive it?”

“Look,” Merlin said, holding his stare with an earnest face, “I fear that Gaius is the only one who can save him.”

Arthur nodded, ordering his men to mount up. He watched over Mordred closely during the whole trip. When they set camp, at nightfall, he sat close to the boy and waited for Merlin’s examination.

“There has been little change,” was Merlin’s statement, although Mordred seemed much worse to Arthur.

“I should never have let him come,” Arthur voiced his regret. It was his fault Mordred had ended up like this.

“He wanted to prove himself,” Merlin tried to ease Arthur’s guilt.

“And he has,” Arthur said, looking at the unconscious boy. He looked so much younger like this. “He saved my life for the second time.”

Merlin did not seem to have anything to say after that. He crouched beside Arthur and kept him company, silently and reassuringly.

.oOo.

Gaius said he could not save Mordred either and Arthur’s pain was nearly physical after that.

Arthur had to brace himself on the table. “There must be... something you can do,” he insisted.

No matter how many times Guinevere or anyone else said Mordred had done his duty by protecting him so that Arthur could rule his Kingdom, they could not expect him to accept that. His life was not worth Mordred’s or anyone else’s. He had been the one to put Mordred in danger by going in that cave to confront The Disir just to ease his own conscience; by allowing the boy to come with him knowing he was too inexperienced; by ignoring Gaius words and Merlin’s warning about disrespecting others’ beliefs. Perhaps he was worthy of the pagan goddess’ judgement after all. Perhaps he was as insolent and arrogant as The Disir claimed him to be.

“I'm afraid not,” Gaius said apologetically. “Only the Disir themselves have the power to counteract their own sorcery. I'm afraid we must prepare ourselves for the worst.”

Arthur had another idea, though. “I'll go to them.”

Gaius looked alarmed at that. “Sire, I do not think that is-”

“And I’ll beg for mercy,” Arthur interrupted him, his mind set on it. “Prepare the horses. We leave at once,” he addressed a somber looking Merlin.

This time, it was just the two of them. Merlin was quiet during the whole journey, but Arthur had the feeling it was not out of worry for Mordred. He was beginning to suspect his servant wasn’t very touched by the young Knight’s tragic condition, although he still could not fathom why. Merlin was not one to be hostile towards an ant. He was always friendly and kind, sometimes annoyingly so. Granted, Mordred had been working for the bandits that captured them intending to sell them to Morgana when they met, but he had proven to be loyal after that. Twice, already.

Arthur had more pressing things to worry at the moment, though.

“Why do you risk so much for one man?” Merlin asked once they dismounted to approach the cave entering.

“I would do the same for any Knight,” Arthur stated honestly, although he did feel something differently towards Mordred, something he did not have the heart to examine right now.

“Though, obviously, not me,” Merlin anticipated.

“Actually, I would.” Arthur said honestly just to contradict him. Then added, not so honestly, “Servants are hard to come by, even bad ones.”

“I'm touched,” Merlins said mockingly.

“Mordred saved my life. What greater debt could there be?”

“The debt to your people, to your destiny.”

Arthur suppressed a fond smile. “You almost sound as if you care,” he tried to make light of it.

“I do care,” Merlin declared sincerely, using that solemn tone he had whenever he was set on highlighting Arthur’s greatness. “About who you are, Arthur. Who you are destined to become.”

Arthur was not in the mood for listening to Merlin’s praising, either. “If it's fated, it doesn't matter what I do, it'll still happen.”

“There is a difference between fate and destiny.”

Arthur did not think he could deal with Merlin’s speech about Arthur’s grand destiny right now. “You think too much, Merlin,” he said more harshly than he first intended, stopping to face his manservant. “The situation is quite simple. A brother-in-arms saves my life. When he, in turn, is threatened, it is my duty to do all I can to save him.” Arthur finished with a significant look, as if daring Merlin to question him.

They started to move again. The sun was beginning to set when they reached their destination. Arthur stopped to dispose of his sword, catching Merlin’s awed stare as he followed the gesture.

“I am not totally insensitive, Merlin,” Arthur felt the need to justify his own actions. “I can see that some people feel this is a sacred place. I am even prepared to admit that you are right sometimes,” he said, then paused for effect. “Obviously, I will deny ever saying that.”

“Obviously,” Merlin whispered as he followed him into the cave.

Once before The Disir again, Arthur bow down on one knee in a show of humility. “My men and I behaved with arrogance and stupidity,” he told them. “We dishonoured this place and insulted your faith. I humbly beg your forgiveness. One amongst us, Sir Mordred, may yet pay the ultimate price. I have come here to petition you for his life.”

“Why should we help you?” They asked.

“I ask not for myself, but for a young man whose only crime was to sacrifice himself for his King.”

They named their price for granting his wish. They wanted Arthur to submit to their goddess and embrace the Old Religion. They gave him until dawn to decide.

.oOo.

Arthur sat down on his blanket to think while Merlin worked on lighting up a fire and finding enough wood to keep them warm through the night before it was too dark.

“How did you know this place was sacred?” Arthur asked when Merlin came back from his search with an armful of wood.

“That's obvious,” Merlin stated dismissively.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Pretend it isn't.”

“Everything here… is so full of life. Every tree, every leaf…” Merlin sounded reverent and Arthur had to raise his head from the blanket he was using as a pillow to look at him as he continued to explain, “every insect. It's as if the world is vibrating. As if everything is much more than itself.”

Arthur watched him smile softly before looking back at his King.

Arthur had to pretend not to be impressed. “You feel all that?”

He remembered all the times Merlin had claimed to sense something. He recalled Merlin’s “funny feeling” and the way he had been unusually serious of late. Merlin had grown up in a village, belonging to another Kingdom, under different rules. Arthur knew the furthest people were from the big cities, the more superstitious they were. They believed in many deities, practiced various rites and cults to their gods. Arthur had never wondered what Merlin believed, what he had left behind after moving to Camelot, but now he started to wonder.

What else he did not know about his servant?

“Don't you?” Merlin asked, smiling. He looked beautiful with his face lit by the fire.

Arthur shook his head. He did not feel a thing. All he could sense was the cold, fresh air of the forest and the smoke coming from the burning wood.

Merlin’s smile died as he walked towards his own bed, at the opposite side of his master’s, sitting down on it. “What will you do?” He asked.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. “I don't know. My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred.” He watched as something crossed Merlin’s features, some emotion he could not identify. He did not have the time to muse over it, though. “But I have seen what misery unfettered sorcery brings. Before my father outlawed magic, Camelot was almost destroyed by sorcery. In my own time, Morgana has used it for nothing but evil.” Arthur looked at Merlin again. “What would you do? In my place?”

He had not realized just how much he relied on Merlin’s opinion of late. Somehow, Merlin had become his root, something that kept him down to earth when he could not rely on his own judgement; that was how deeply he trusted his servant.

“Me?” Merlin looked taken aback. “I'm just a lackey, a maker of beds.”

“Lackeys can be wise,” Arthur pushed. He watched that same flicker of unnamed emotion cross Merlin’s features before he shook his head, as if he had nothing to say. Which was nonsense, because Merlin always had something to say. “It is not like you to be silent.”

“A Kingdom's future is at stake,” Merlin said, showing just how much he understood about the depth of the question, and that was another of the reasons why his opinion was so precious to Arthur, although he seemed to be deliberately leaving aside one important piece of the problem at hand.

“And a man's life,” Arthur made a point to remind Merlin of it.

Merlin shook his head stubbornly. “You must protect Camelot. You must protect the world you have spent your life building, a just and fair Kingdom for all.”

Arthur nodded his understanding. “You would have me sacrifice a friend?” He asked, just to be sure Merlin was aware of the consequences of what he was suggesting.

His councilors had told him once to stay away from the training field so that he would not become too attached to the aspiring Knights, and yet they could not have prevented him from finding Mordred and bringing him back to Camelot, knighting him, allowing him to enter his closest circles. What if he was letting his personal attachment to the boy to rule over his duty to his people?

Merlin averted his eyes, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before seeming to make up his mind. “I would have you become the King you are destined to be.”

He was deliberately avoiding the question. Arthur needed a straight answer.

Arthur sat up to face him more closely, squinting. “If I  _ do _ save Mordred, all my father's work will be for nothing. Sorcery will reign once more in Camelot. Is that what you'd want?” The question was nearly aggressive and Arthur knew he was not being fair to dump all this weight on his servant’s back, but why would he spare Merlin when he had to carry it constantly himself and live with the consequences of his decisions? Was it fair on him?

“Perhaps my father was wrong, perhaps the old ways aren't as evil as we thought,” Arthur considered, watching the struggle clear on Merlin’s eyes, on the way his chest heaved with the responsibility of it all. Arthur softened his tone then. “So what should we do? Accept magic? Or let Mordred die?”

Merlin sighed. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he shook his head, shifting uncomfortably before Arthur’s intent stare. His distress was so telling, Arthur felt bad for him. He nearly regretted asking the question, although he really needed to hear it from Merlin. He depended on Merlin’s opinion, for he was at a complete loss. He could not trust his own heart on this decision, thus he needed to trust Merlin’s. Merlin, who had always had the Kingdom’s best interest at heart, who would sacrifice anything for his King, even his own heart.

“There can be no place for magic in Camelot,” Merlin sentenced at last.

Arthur felt his guts sinking. He laid back down, frowning.

He could not sleep that night and he knew for sure Merlin couldn’t either. Arthur could hear his servant’s restless shifting and sniffing. He wished he could comfort Merlin, but who would comfort him, then?

.oOo.

Arthur told The Disir his decision. He sealed his fate, as they told him. He rode back to Camelot heartbroken.

“You did the right thing,” Merlin said, noticing his King’s sorrow.

“I condemned a man to death.” Arthur’s voice was heavy with regret and grief as they neared the city walls. He did not think he was ready to face whatever was expecting him there.

“For the sake of Camelot,” Merlin completed.

Arthur sighed. He could not stop thinking Merlin didn't understand the true extent of his suffering. “He saved my life, Merlin. More than once.”

“I know,” Merlin said. And perhaps he did, only Arthur could not see past his own distress.

After dismounting, as he looked up to the entrance of the Castle expecting to see Guinevere there to welcome him, he found Mordred instead. At first, he could not believe his own eyes. The boy was in his mail and cape, smiling brightly, his cheeks rosy with joy and healthiness. Arthur walked to him in awe and Mordred met him halfway, greeting him with an arm shake. 

Arthur did not think twice before pulling him to an embrace. “I’m so glad you’re fine,” he breathed out, filled with relief and amazement.

Had the pagan goddess taken pity on him? Had it all been superstition after all?

“You’re right on time for the morning training, My Lord,” Mordred said and Arthur found that he did not care for the answer, all his previous suffering already forgotten as he followed his men to the training field with a lingering smile.

.oOo.

Arthur ordered a feast that evening to celebrate Mordred’s recover. He laughed and joked with his men, ate and drank until he could fit nothing more into his belly. He did not notice Merlin’s dark mood until nearing the end, when his servant did not laugh after what was possibly the worst joke Gwaine had ever told.

Arthur signaled for Merlin to fill up his cup, even though he was done drinking for the night. “Don’t worry, Merlin,” he said when Merlin leaned over, “the Queen has already dispatched me to my old chambers tonight. It’s that time of the month again.”

“I’m not sure if it’s any of my concern, Sire,” Merlin’s tone was flat and he walked away before Arthur could say any more.

“What’s got to him?” Arthur asked his wife after noticing her following Merlin’s retreat.

Guinevere assessed him for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “You truly have absolutely no clue, have you?”

Arthur frowned, now more confused than ever. “About what? What’s going on, Guinevere? Why’s Merlin acting so strangely of late?”

The Queen’s smile was annoyingly lenient. “He’s jealous of Mordred, of course.”

“He’s… What?” Arthur’s eyes searched for Merlin again, noticing the way he seemed to ignore Percival’s extended hand for what seemed to be the tenth time that night. He also noticed Percival was sitting beside Mordred.

Arthur wondered if Mordred had drank any wine that evening. He had not seen Merlin head his way once.

“Don’t worry, I asked for one of the kitchen maids to serve that end of the table,” Guinevere said, perceptive as ever.

“Why would he be jealous of Mordred?”

Guinevere’s look was incredulous now. “Oh, my dear husband, you cannot be that thick,” she said before sipping at her wine.

Arthur frowned some more. Was she implying Merlin thought Arthur was...

“Oh, dear God,” Arthur exclaimed, grimacing. He looked at his wife, who averted his eyes. “Please tell me you don’t think this of me as well,” he said, unbelieving. He lowered his voice when a few heads turned towards them, curious. “I would never!”

“Wouldn’t you?” Guinevere asked, arching an eyebrow.

“He’s one of my Knights!” Arthur hissed, outraged. How could they suspect this of him?

“Is this because of his rank, then? He’s not of noble birth. Would you be interested if he was a servant, like Merlin?”

“No!” Arthur said, slightly exasperated. “He’s… He’s too young.”

“He’ll grow up,” Guinevere continued matter of factly. “Merlin was younger when he met you.”

“So was I! Mordred could almost be my son!”

Guinevere smiled sadly then, reaching for her husband’s hand and squeezing it. “I know. I know you pretty much adopted him as the son I never gave you. I knew it the moment you came back with Mordred. It’s not me you have to convince.” She gestured with her head and Arthur looked up to see Merlin eyeing Mordred with a sad, resigned face.

Arthur looked back at his wife’s face and suddenly realized how much she should have felt every time he rattled on and on about Mordred’s improving skills. He squeezed her hand back, grateful for her selfless support.

“I’m going to bed now,” Guinevere said, kissing his cheek before getting to her feet. “Talk to him,” she added sternly.

Arthur watched her walk away, frowning. Now that he stopped to think about it, he had been acting fatherly towards Mordred. Only a fool would think he had such indecorous feelings towards the boy.

He looked at Merlin and sighed.

It probably wasn’t Merlin’s fault, anyway. His servant had no way of knowing what was going on inside Arthur’s head. It was not like Arthur had made a vow to him, like he had to Guinevere. Arthur had not named him his consort like he did to her.

“Merlin!” Arthur asked, getting up and gesturing for his servant to accompany him out.

Merlin passed the wine jar to another servant and followed him. He kept silent all the way to Arthur’s chambers and halfway through undressing Arthur. When he moved to take Arthur’s ceremonial crown, Arthur stopped him. “Leave it,” he said.

Merlin watched Arthur warily before turning his back on him while folding his cape. “Expecting any visitors, My Lord?” He asked with feigned disinterest. “Should I fetch you some clean clothes or will you keep those?”

“I won’t need any clothes for what I plan to do, Merlin,” Arthur said and paused, watching his servant’s shoulder tense. “Neither will you.”

Merlin avoided looking at him as he busied himself with something or other. “I fear I’m a bit indisposed tonight, Sire.”

Arthur sighed theatrically. “Alright, I guess I’ll have to settle with cuddling, then.”

Merlin turned around, looking at him with his brow furrowed. “Um. Actually, I was thinking of heading back to my room, Arthur. I thought perhaps…” he continued tentatively, “you’d wish to find some better company.”

Arthur smiled then, amused at Merlin’s attempt at being subtle. Guinevere was right, Arthur had being  _ that _ thick. He took a step closer to Merlin. “Nonsense. I don’t want a better company. I want you. In that bed. With me.”

Merlin swallowed, looking away. “Arthur…”

“ _ Mer _ lin,” Arthur said, reaching for Merlin’s wrists and pulling him closer. “I saw how you avoided toasting to Mordred’s health. Is there something you wish to tell me?”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “Arthur,” he tried to set his arms free, but Arthur backed him up against the bedpost.

“Listen,” he said, looking at one blue eye at a time, “I’ve told you this before. I don’t want anyone else.”

Merlin’s shoulders sagged and he looked sadder. “Things changed since then.”

“Some things have. Not this. Mordred’s like a son to me, Merlin. I don’t know what gave you other impression, but I’m telling you to drop it now. I’m not replacing you now nor ever. Understood?”

Merlin nodded, first timidly, then more intently.

Arthur kissed him then, claiming, bruising. He pressed himself onto Merlin’s body and felt Merlin’s long fingers digging into his back as he pulled him closer still. When they parted, Arthur hurried to unbuckle Merlin’s belt and they undressed hurriedly. Arthur had to remove his crown when Merlin was pulling his tunic over his head, but he put it on Merlin’s head instead.

Merlin gasped and tried to take it off, panicking. “I-I can’t,” he said.

Arthur was about to argue, but thought better of it. He accepted his crown back, put it on himself again and walked over to his wardrobe, searching for the chest with his old crown, the one he had worn as Crown Prince. He watched Merlin’s eyes nearly pop out of its sockets as he pulled it out.

Arthur placed it on Merlin’s head reverently.

“What are you doing?” Merlin asked, startled. “You can’t- It’s not-”

_ I’m showing how special you are to me _ , Arthur thought.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said instead. “I’m the King. I can do as I please. Now come here.”

He guided his servant towards the bed and sat on the mattress, his back against the headboard, his legs outstretched. He pulled Merlin towards him, making him straddle his legs. The crown was too big on Merlin’s head, hanging on his ears. It contrasted with his dark hair and made his eyes shine brighter.

Arthur pulled him into another kiss, grabbing him by the hips, slipping one finger lazily between Merlin’s buttocks, prodding at his opening, his finger too dry to penetrate.

“You’re mine,” Arthur said into the kiss. “You hear me?”

“Yes, Sire.”

Arthur reached for the oil near the bed and opened him up slowly while Merlin rutted against his stomach, his hands wandering over Arthur’s body reverently. He eased himself down on Arthur’s cock after it was properly slicked and rode him slow and steady. Arthur rested his back on the headboard, watching him mesmerised.

“Come on, Merlin. I want to watch you come undone.”

Merlin closed his eyes as he touched himself in time with the bobbing of his hips. He gasped as he painted Arthur’s stomach white with his seed, his breathing hard while he stroked himself until the last drop. Arthur flipped them around then, throwing Merlin on the mattress and thrusting into him carefully not to let his own crown slip.

He emptied himself inside Merlin silently, holding his stare. Merlin raised one hand to fix Arthur’s crown on top of his head before caressing Arthur’s cheek, his breathing still uneven, his lips parted and bruised from all the previous kissing. His crown had slipped askew when he fell on the pillow and his hair was glued to his forehead where it had been before.

“You’re insane,” Merlin whispered.

Despite suspecting Merlin was not far from the truth, Arthur smirked, pulling off of him. “I’m allowed to be insane if I so wish to be.”

Merlin grimaced and pressed his lips together reproachfully, showing his dimples. “So much for settling with cuddling. You’re a royal pain in my ass, that’s what you are.”

Arthur laughed, taking his crown off before laying down beside Merlin. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

Merlin snorted, but sighed contently when Arthur looped his arm around him later, chest to back. Arthur ignored the inconvenient, persistent voice in his head telling him there must be something wrong with him and went to sleep.

.Merlin.


	11. Chapter Eleven

When everything seemed to be back to normal, Gwinevere went missing. She and Elyan had gone on their annual visit to their father’s grave with Leon, Percival and Gwaine as their escorts, but Elyan came back with Leon and Percival unconscious, sans the Queen.

Elyan said they had come upon a nest of poisonous snakes and he told his sister to run while he helped succour the others. Arthur could see how distressed and remorseful Elyan looked about that decision, but he himself was trying not to fret about the possibility of losing Guinevere once again.

At first, Arthur told himself there was no reason to despair, she had probably just gotten astray. He made plans to start the searches at dawn, but then Merlin came back with the news that there were evidences of sorcery on the poison running through the Knights’ veins, even though they were sure to recover from it.

“Gaius suspects Morgana is involved,” Merlin said with a grim voice.

Arthur averted his eyes from his wife’s dresser. He had been examining her possession while trying to convince himself she was alright. He was also trying not to think he was the worst husband she could have ever had, but failing terribly. “You can go Merlin,” he dismissed his servant and heard him retreat without a word. Before Merlin could go too far, though, he continued to speak, feeling the back of his eyes stinging. “I lost Guinevere once before.”

It had all rushed back to him. All the turmoil of feelings, all the ways he had wronged Guinevere, especially how he had banished her from his Kingdom after catching her with Lancelot, as if he was one to judge her. She did not like talking about what she went through during her banishment, yet Arthur knew quite well how it must have been. She had forgiven him then, she had found him worthy of her love still, even after everything he had put her through.

Somehow, Arthur must have forgotten all that, at some point during their marriage. It was easy to forget when Guinevere would never throw it at his face, merciful soul that she was. Still, he had not being valuing her as much as he should.

Not for the first time, Arthur felt he was lacking as a husband, as a partner. Suddenly, he felt the weight of the guilt he had being repressing during the last year or so, when he had returned to giving in on his cravings for Merlin.

How many times of late had he told himself it was nothing like what he had with Guinevere? How many times had he reaffirmed that he loved his wife above everything, even his closest friend? He couldn’t remember the last time he had spared a thought to that.

No, instead he had found ways of escaping his wife’s arms so that he could have Merlin to himself. Too many times, in his most intimate moments of his conjugal life, he had caught himself closing his eyes and thinking of his manservant instead of Guinevere. He had been too much of a remiss spouse to her, while still counting on her to take care of his Kingdom whenever he was away, trusting that she would do her best. He had not even bothered to thank her for how much of her own life she was giving up to her King.

Guinevere - bless her - had never breathed a word of complaint. Ever. On the contrary, she had always being there to encourage him, to offer him a word of wisdom or solace, or even push him into the right direction, right into Merlin’s arms.

What had Arthur given her in return, apart from broken promises and empty words of undying love? He had sworn to love her above everything and protect her with his life. Now she had gone missing again, maybe even thinking that her absence would not be felt. To add to his guilt, he remembered crowning Merlin his Prince Consort in an inconsequential play pretend, not so long ago. Merlin had called him insane at the time, and maybe he was right.

“You are not going to lose her,” Merlin said, turning back to face him. He must have seen the doubt in Arthur’s face, for he stepped back to him. “You’re not,” he said firmly, like he knew what Arthur was thinking and was absolutely certain he was wrong. “We will find her. I swear.”

He offered his outstretched arm at his regent with naked honesty in his eyes. It was not as if Arthur had doubted Merlin would be so understanding. He had been friends with Guinevere probably long before he considered Arthur to be something close to a friend as well. Only, the gesture touched Arthur deeply and for some reason he thought Merlin possibly really understood him more than he was letting on.

Arthur accepted the extended arm with a firm clasp and hoped Merlin saw the gratitude in his eyes as easily as he had seen the doubt before, for Arthur was out of words to express it.

Merlin smiled reassuringly. “We will bring her home.”

Arthur believed him, how could he not? If Merlin was so sure, how could he doubt? They would rescue Guinevere straight from hell, if it came to that. And Arthur made a promise to be a better husband for her, starting from today.

.Merlin.

The search was maddening and it would probably have turned even worse if it wasn't  for Merlin. They found Guinevere’s horse, but lost her trail before nightfall and Arthur would have kept his men riding blindly through the night if not for Merlin taking command, making wise decisions when he knew Arthur could not think clearly.

The guilt was eating him from the inside, but Merlin’s calm forced him to get over his own misery long enough to take a deep breath and take a look around. He realised he was not the only one suffering. Elyan was restless and taciturn like never before. He obviously could not forgive himself for leaving his sister and Queen to fend for herself.

Arthur tried to comfort him, but it wasn't easy when he could not convince himself of his own words. They felt meaningless, weak.

Then Leon and Percy started to have this strange dreams about a tower, The Dark Tower. Merlin said it must be the poison in their veins making them have the same dream. It was probably fabricated by Morgana to lure them to a trap.

Arthur knew chances were Merlin was right, but if there was the smallest possibility of Guinevere being in that tower, Arthur would risk anything to bring her back. Merlin knew enough of it not to argue with him, even though he looked worried.

Come dawn, when Arthur announced that he would be riding alone, his men answered with the courage and loyalty which had convinced Arthur to knight them from the very beginning.

“You can't stop me Arthur, she is my sister,” said Elyan.

“Nor me either,” said Percival. “She's our Queen.”

“And our friend,” completed Leon.

Gwaine was the next to speak out. “She's a maiden in a tower. A damsel in distress. I was born for this moment.”

Arthur looked at Merlin then, the only one who had remained quiet so far. “You can turn back, Merlin,” he offered, just to let it clear that he had a choice, even though Arthur already knew what he would choose.

Merlin frowned as if he was talking nonsense. “I made you a promise, remember?”

Arthur nodded, unable and unwilling to disguise his pride over all of them. He sheathed his sword and they parted their camping. It was not an easy journey through the Impenetrable Forest, as it was only to be expected. They could not see much ahead but the thorned branches of trees, which made their walk frustratingly slow. They had no way of orienting themselves through it, even by the ivey, and they soon found out they were walking in circles, wasting an entire day at that.

After Leon announcement that they would set camp for the night, Arthur was so angry he did not see Merlin approaching.

“I made you a promise, remember?” Merlin said once again and Arthur turned to face him, but looked away next. He was not in the right state of mind to deal with Merlin’s unwavering belief at the moment.

Merlin raised his voice then, so that Elyan could hear it too, from his spot nearby. “We will bring her home.”

Arthur didn't say anything in return and heard him stepping away. He was lost in his own head when he heard someone approaching.

“I guess now is my turn to make you see some sense, Sire,” Elyan said, crouching next to him. “I remember you telling me we shouldn’t blame ourselves.”

Arthur offered him a sad smile. “I’m afraid I can’t help it, as you must know.”

Elyan considered him for a moment through squinted eyes. “I honestly cannot see why. You’ve been good and honorable to my sister, as I hoped you would.”

Arthur huffed an incredulous breath, averting his eyes. If only Elyan knew how honorable he had been.

“Hey,” Elyan said, placing a hand on his upper arm. “You made right by her when any other royal man in your place would simply have taken advantage of her and married a proper lady. You made her your Queen, despite everything.”

“Still, I have not been the greatest of husbands to her.”

“Well…” Elyan took his hand away, seeming to consider something. “Maybe your relationship isn’t… conventional, all things considered.”

Arthur’s head snapped up to face him at the words. Elyan seemed to be looking at some point behind Arthur’s shoulder. Alarmed, Arthur followed the Knight’s line of vision and found Merlin searching for firewood not far. His stomach sank at the implication and he started to move to grab his sword when he realized Elyan was not accusing him and didn’t look like someone ready to challenge him for his sister’s dignity. “What- H-How- Who-?” Arthur stuttered, abashed at his own lack of coherence.

Elyan sighed, offering him a slight roll of his eye. “No one told me, if that’s what you’re worried about. Only, I have eyes. And I noticed how the others kept me from entering a room whenever the two of you were in it alone.”

“The... others?” Arthur asked, feeling the blood flee his face as he looked around. How many of them knew about this? All of them? Had Merlin been flapping his mouth?

“Why do you think Gwaine finds so much fun in flirting with Merlin right at your face?” Elyan continued, disregarding Arthur’s inner turmoil. “And it certainly shed light on some things, like why you never knighted Merlin when you have known him before any of us.”

Arthur frowned at that. What did he mean by that? Before he could put his doubts into words, Elyan continued with his monologue.

“I might have tried to warn my sister about the two of you, but she kindly told me to mind my own business.” Elyan shrugged.

Arthur assessed him for a moment, trying to see if he was somehow mocking him. He found nothing but honesty in the man’s face. “And you still think I’m a honorable husband?”

Elyan shrugged again. “Like she said, it’s none of my business. Whatever arrangement the two of you made, it’s between you and her.” He rolled his eyes again before the incredulous look Arthur offered him. “Alright, maybe I’d be pissed if it was any other person. A maid, some greedy court lady - or gentleman, for that matter. But it’s _Merlin_. Anyone can tell he wants nothing out of this situation other than to indulge you.”

Arthur followed his look to where Merlin was making his way into the woods in his search, seeming oblivious to his audience.

“Besides, I can tell that she’s fine with this,” Elyan continued. “And she’s happy. She has a caring husband, her independence and gets to be a mother to all of Camelot’s subjects. She cares about people, that’s how she is. It’s like she was born to sit on that throne.”

Instead of making Arthur feel better, it only made him grimmer, realizing he had been neglecting his wife when she still clearly craved for children of her own. He had not put much effort in granting her wish. Not that they didn’t have any intimate moments, but they were fewer and fewer of late and not nearly enough. Most of the time, Arthur was happy to simply hold her while she slept whenever they shared a bed.

Instead of commenting on it, though, Arthur offered Elyan an empty smile and thanked him for his understanding words. He tried to get some sleep at night, but only managed a few restless doze offs.

.oOo.

Arthur would have probably felt more self-conscious around his men after knowing they were all aware of his extra-conjugal liaison if it were not for the fact that he had more pressing matters to worry about at the moment. He had a wife to rescue and he would never forgive himself if he failed her.

They were on the move again as soon as there was enough light, except that they did not seem too sure of the way. Somehow, Merlin seemed to have taken the lead.

“Please…” Merlin said, when he realized the others were eyeing him suspiciously instead of moving to follow him. “I know I can get us there. I wouldn't do anything to risk Gwen’s life, I can get us to the Dark Tower. I am certain,” he assured, unwavering. Arthur shared a disbelieving look with his men. Merlin did not seem to be bothered by it, though. “I know what Gwen means to you, to all of us.” He paused to look each of them in the eye with boldness. “We need to head north.”

Arthur stepped up. “Which way is that Merlin?”

Merlin pointed in the direction he was heading before. “That way.”

“No, it's…” Arthur looked up, searching for a hint of the sun through the thick leaves. It’s sudden appearance allowed him to calculate their position, which he then confirmed by the shadow casting over his sword. He frowned. “Over there,” he pointed, aware that he had signaled the same direction Merlin had pointed earlier. “How on Earth did you know that?”

Merlin offered them a strangely shy smile. “Sense of smell,” he stated and continued when no one seemed to believe him. “When the wind is from the north you can smell the sea.”

Arthur shook his head. “That's ridiculous.”

“Trust me just this once?” Merlin was serious again, his stare fixed on Arthur, pleading.

Arthur shifted on his feet, uncertain.

“Arthur,” he heard Elyan say by his side, “give him a chance.”

Elyan wielded his sword, stepping up to follow Merlin before Arthur could respond.

“What choice do we have?” said Leon.

Arthur drew his own sword and followed after his men. Merlin moved ahead with a certainty Arthur was finding some difficulty to believe. “Are you sure this is the right way, Merlin?” He asked, just to be on the safe side.

Merlin stopped and seemed to consider the path ahead for the first time. Arthur was sure Merlin was about to drop the act when Merlin looked back at him with a serious expression, as if daring him to question him again, and resumed the lead without a word.

Arthur followed him. Like Leon said, what choice did they have?

His decision proved right when they begun to recognize the path they had covered the previous day, finding the sword Percival had left behind after breaking, as well as a clearing through which they had seen the Dark Tower ahead. It seemed even more unreachable than it had the day before, but Merlin’s confidence was starting to rub on them.

Arthur put a hand on his servant’s shoulder in acknowledgment of his feat. “Which way now?”

Sometimes, Merlin would stop and contemplate the path ahead, as if he could see way past the walls of branches right at their noses, then he would spring into movement again, surer than before until… until they were out of the woods, contemplating a plain and sterile field leading to the tower. Somehow Merlin had managed it.

Arthur did not lose any time praising him for his feat, ushering them to move ahead. On the bright side, they could see the path ahead this time. On the other, it did not make it any way easier to press forward. The sun was unrelentless, causing the hot rocks on the ground to nearly melt their boots. Merlin tripped when they were crossing an abyss and nearly got himself impaled by a sword stuck on the ground - Arthur’s heart had nearly stopped at that and he managed not to scream, but it had been a near thing. Suddenly, it sounded too much of an irony that he would lose Merlin while trying to rescue Guinevere.

Once they reached the tower, they did not encounter any guards as they climbed the endless steps up. Arthur was suspicious, even before Merlin pointed out it was too easy, but they soon found some traps along the way. Once again, Merlin took the initiative to lead them through a room full of triggers.

It was Elyan who got to cross the room first, though, and he promptly disobeyed Arthur’s order to wait for them.

“None of us would be here if it weren't for me,” Elyan said before pushing on. “I have to do this.”

When Arthur finally caught up to him, the relief of finding Guinevere was ruined by the sight of Elyan sprawled out on the floor. There was fresh blood pooling over his wounded chest while Guinevere wept copiously over his unresponsive body. Arthur rushed on and took his glove to search for Elyan's heartbeat, but it was too late. He was gone.

Arthur had failed his wife once again.

.Merlin.

Even if Arthur hadn't been determined to be a better husband to Guinevere, he would have found it difficult to act otherwise. Besides the fact that she was mourning her brother, she also had nightmares and often woke up screaming in the middle of the night. She refused to talk about what had transpired at the Dark Tower and Arthur found it best not to press her, but he could guess how horrible it had been just by her desperate screams and the way she cradled her own head while rocking in bed. Sometimes she shied away from him when he tried to comfort her and it took him some time to convince her that it was alright, that it was only Arthur, her husband, her friend.

During the day, Guinevere asked him to stay with her or allow her to accompany him wherever he went. She tried not to look frightened, but Arthur knew her too well. He indulged her as much as he could. He started delegating more tasks to his Knights again, particularly the ones which required leaving the castle. He held her while she slept, tried to distract her when she was up to some mindless talking and respected her need to be silent when she was lost inside her own head.

Of course it also meant that he spent less time in Merlin’s company and pretty much no time at all alone with him. Arthur knew he should probably say something to his manservant about his new resolution, albeit he found himself avoiding any kind of private conversation with him. Partly because he did not feel like he needed to explain himself for spending more time with his wife, and partly because he didn't trust himself to be alone with Merlin. Especially when Guinevere had not been in the mood for intimacy of late.

Arthur had no intention of pushing her when she was already going through so much. He was confident that she would let him know when she was ready and was determined to wait patiently until then. He had even worked on a resolute deny in case she offered for him to move to his old chambers, which she had not just yet - and it only proved how much she needed him right now.

One morning, Arthur woke up with a light shake to his shoulder and looked up to find Merlin looming over him.

“May I have a word, Sire?” Merlin mostly mouthed the words, sending a sideways look at Guinevere, still fast asleep in Arthur’s arms.

Arthur frowned, realizing the sun was barely up yet. “Does it absolutely have to be right now?” he retorted in a hushed tone, making sure to let it clear how irritated he was for being awaken too soon.

Merlin sent another surreptitious look at the Queen before whispering his reply. “I think it’s for the best.”

Arthur grunted, but moved to untangle his arm from around his wife’s peaceful form, careful not to disturb her as he left the comfortable heat of the bed behind. He was decently dressed in his sleeping tunic and soft breeches, therefore he did not care to put any more clothes on as he followed Merlin to the adjacent room.

“Arthur-” Merlin started in a rushed tone, seeming determined, but Arthur raised his hand to stop him with a resigned eye roll.

“Merlin, I know we’ve not had that many opportunities to talk lately, but I had hoped you would understand it regardless,” Arthur said, keeping his tone low. “Guinevere is my wife and she has a lot to deal with right now. I can’t leave her here by herself just because you’re feeling lonely and let out.” He arched an eyebrow before Merlin’s strange look. “What? Isn’t that the reason why you forced me out of bed this early in the morning?”

Merlin’s face became guarded as he pressed his lips together. “Actually, no, this is not what this is about. After all, I wouldn’t dare questioning my Regent about the way he chooses to spend his time, especially _on his wife’s birthday_ , as I’m sure it must not have escaped your mind,” he gestured for the breakfast tray he had put on Arthur’s desk, filled with Guinevere’s favorite fruits as well as a fresh bouquet of flowers.

“Oh,” Arthur said stupidly and felt his cheeks burning with shame. “Of course it did not escape my mind,” he said, squaring his shoulders. It was a blatant lie and Merlin certainly knew that, judging by the incredulous look he sent his way.

Merlin relaxed his face into a nonchalant expression. “I also would appreciate if you shared with me the plan for today, Sire, just so I don’t get caught off guard.”

“The plan,” Arthur repeated in an attempt to buy himself some time.

“Yes. The plan,” Merlin repeated, as if talking to a particularly obtuse child.

“Well,” Arthur diverted his eyes from his sassy manservant, trying to think of something. What would Guinevere like for her birthday?

He had no idea.

Arthur looked at his servant again, gathering all the dignity that he could. “The plan, Merlin, is to ask the Queen what she’d like to do on her birthday.”

Merlin simply stared at him blankly for a moment. “Of course this is the plan.”

Arthur was about to reply something scornful when he heard some rustling coming from the bed.

“Arthur?” came Guinevere’s slightly alarmed voice.

“Coming!” Arthur said out loud, taking the tray from the desk, then addressed Merlin in a whisper: “I’ll make sure to let you know what she decides.”

Merlin offered him a forced smile but didn’t say a thing when Arthur turned his back on him, coming back to the bed and surprising his wife with the breakfast tray.

Guinevere smiled her sweetest smile, showing her dimples. When Arthur asked her what she would like to do to spend the day, she in turn surprised him asking to go outside for a picnic. She had not left the walls of the castle since Elyan’s funeral, which also meant Arthur had not stepped foot outside. Therefore, he was more than happy to grant her wish.

.oOo.

The excursion outside turned into a nightmare. Arthur’s horse was scared by a loud noise and broke into a gallop. The horse’s girth snapped and he fell right in the middle of some bandits. Fortunately, Arthur left the encounter victorious and relatively unscathed and came back to a pale but safe Guinevere and a fretting Merlin.

Just when Merlin expressed his suspicion of sabotage, Leon came with the proof that the girth had been unpicked, which resulted in the arrest and interrogation of the stable boy. Tyr refused to say who was behind the plot, therefore Arthur was forced to charge him with treason and sentenced him to death, even though he did not believe the boy to be guilty of murdering a fly, let alone playing his King’s demise.

“Tyr Seward is a simple man,” Arthur reasoned when Guinevere tried to comfort him after the sentence. “He can’t have planed this assassination himself.”

“Well, I know that's what you would like to think…” Guinevere said in a condescending tone. “We all would. But, as hard as it is to accept, even a great and honorable King has enemies within his walls. Very often the last person you would suspect. Tyr is just such a person.”

Arthur frowned, his eyes unfocusing as he stared away from her. “No, you're right. I suppose experience should have taught me that by now.”

Still, he could not stop feeling like he had failed the boy somehow.

“The important thing is he didn't succeed,” Guinevere continued gravely. “I've already lost my brother, I couldn't bear to lose you too.”

Arthur’s head snapped back at her. He caressed her cheek, touched by her words. “I'm here, Guinevere. I always will be. I'll never leave you, I promise you that.”

Merlin was not convinced of Tyr’s culpability either and he searched for Arthur later that evening, claiming he had asked the stable boy and learned that he had been witness to the sabotage, but had not participated in it and was threatened to stay quiet. Arthur would have climbed down to the cell that very moment to hear it for himself if it were not for Guinevere’s worries about his recovering wounds. Arthur did not wish to distress her, so he postponed the confrontation.

Arthur deeply regret this decision when Tyr was found dead the next morning.

There was a traitor inside the castle walls, someone who knew it intimately and was probably close to the King, otherwise they would not have killed Tyr to protect their identity. Arthur ordered his men to enhance the security, but Gwaine was attacked by sorcery just outside the castle and Merlin suspect Morgana’s involvement.

While they investigated, Guinevere showed her support and Merlin…

For some reason, Arthur caught Merlin meddling with the Queen’s dresses. It brought a disconcerting memory of one time Arthur had surprised Merlin in a similar situation.

“Merlin, I would strongly recommend that you start showing a little less interest in Guinevere’s clothing and a little more interest in mine,” Arthur said after his servant’s feeble attempts of explanation, picking up his laundry basket and holding it out to Merlin.

Merlin pulled a face at the smell. “I think I prefer Gwen’s.”

Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m going to do everything in my power to try and forget that you ever just said that.” He shoved the basket in Merlin’s chest. “I suggest you do the same.”

As promised, Arthur was quick to brush the whole incident out of his mind, unwilling to examine it too closely.

He focused on Guinevere’s apparent improvement, instead. She had started spending more time away from Arthur and even left the castle a few times on her own, minding her own business. That night, she arrived from one of her walks just when a servant was finishing serving dinner.

Arthur did not remember much of their talk. He remembered making a point of serving her some wine and proposing a toast to them, since they had not had the opportunity to actually celebrate her anniversary.

He must have lost his conscious then, for he felt like he was stuck in a bad dream, feeling an excruciating and paralyzing pain starting from his ear and spreading into his whole body, trying and failing to scream or move. It was all pitch dark and unmoving. Sometimes he thought he hear talking, but he could not seem to make out the words nor ask for help. He thought he heard Guinevere crying and someone comforting her. He thought he heard the warning bells and Gaius’ reassuring voice. He could swear he heard Merlin’s voice too, sick with worry, his breath very close and heavy. Arthur could almost smell him as well. In his dream, someone said some ancient words - Gaius? Merlin? - something powerful albeit unknown to him. He felt two strong pushes at his heart and a surge of power which left his entire body tingling for a moment.

His dream changed then, and he was finally free of the pain. He felt someone prodding at him, probably Gaius making sure his arm was healed. Arthur brushed him off and rolled to his side, falling into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

.oOo.

When he woke up, he found himself alone in bed while Gwaine smiled at him, watching him from his post at the entrance of the room in guarding position.

“Good morning, sunshine,” said the Knight with something close to fondness in his voice.

“Where’s Guinevere?” Arthur asked, looking around. “Where’s Merlin?”

Gwaine frowned then. “Well, it’s a long story.”

Apparently, Arthur had been poisoned and, for some reason he struggled to grasp, Guinevere had claimed Merlin was responsible for that - as well as sabotaging his saddle and killing Tyr. It made Arthur rise to his feet with an outraged huff.

“ _Merlin_?” He said, starting to move to get dressed. “Why would she think that?”

Fortunately, George chose this moment to show up and help him put his clothes on while Gwaine explained with a shrug. “She said he was the only one who had free, unquestioned access to the entire castle.”

Arthur shook his head, unbelieving. “It’s Merlin! The fact that he could does not mean that he’d _ever_ do it,” he said, raising his arms so that George could lower his tunic. “Where _is_ he, by the way?”

“Um,” Gwaine said and Arthur squinted at the Knight’s hesitance. “He’s in the Dungeons.”

Arthur knocked his ewbol on George’s head, earning a dismayed cry, which he promptly ignored. “ _What_?”

He dismissed the Knight’s explanations - of course Gwaine had to obey the Queen’s order without questioning, but it was _Merlin_! Merlin, who had tried to save Tyr’s life and who was doing his laundry around the time Arthur had been poisoned.

“I had another servant bring my dinner because he was otherwise busy,” Arthur said, gesturing wildly in his rage, making George flinch away. “Someone must have seen him in the Kitchens!”

“I’ll ask around, Sire,” Gwaine said with a firm nod.

“Yes you will. And call Leon while you’re at it.”

Gaius came in after that to examine the King and Leon came after him, continuing the report from where Gwaine had left while George finished strapping Arthur’s armor. His second in command claimed an old sorcerer had been spotted inside the castle last night and pursued around the citadel, so they had found it best to guard the Queen, in case Arthur weren’t to survive. Although Leon had been very careful around the words, Arthur acknowledged that everyone had been already counting their King as dead.

According to Gaius, the poison was deadly. The physician claimed Arthur was lucky to be alive, although Arthur knew him to be too modest to say he had managed to counteract it with his own skills.

There was something about that story that was bothering him, though.

“This sorcerer you said was walking about the castle, what did he look like?” Arthur asked.

Leon blinked, surprised by the question. “Um. It was Gwaine who spotted him, as well as Audrey, the Cook. She said the man had long white hair and beard and was terribly rude to her.”

Arthur found the description quite familiar. He also remembered the old man to be one of Gaius’ acquaintance. In fact, he remembered Gaius vouching for the man’s integrity in one occasion, assuring him the sorcerer was an ally rather than an enemy. How would the physician explain the old man’s appearance the night Arthur had been poisoned?

“And he was not found?” Arthur asked, just to make sure.

“No, Sire. We searched the whole castle. There was no sign of him. But we’ll keep looking for him, Sire.”

“Thank you, Leon,” Arthur said, losing himself in his thoughts as he paced his room after dismissing George.

Arthur had promised Gaius he would not question his loyalty again and he did not wish to make assumptions about the sorcerer’s identity, but it was certainly too many coincidences. Something wasn’t adding up. Should he question Gaius even after he had managed saving Arthur from the brink of death?

When Gwaine came back with the Cook, she confirmed the whole story and she would not stop saying how much of an ill-mannered brute the old man had been, offending her cooking skills and going to the extend of hitting her with her own pan when she would not let him through. Arthur probably should not feel tempted to laugh at that, but the corners of his mouth kept curling up as he pictured the old sorcerer hitting the burly Cook with a frying pan.

As soon as he managed to dispatch the woman, he asked Gwaine to fetch Merlin.

Guinevere entered as the Knight left to follow his orders. “Arthur!” She ran to him and enveloped him in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright! I thought I was going to lose you as well!”

“Hey, I promised you wouldn’t lose me, remember?” Arthur said, stroking the back of her head as she sobbed.

She moved back to caress his face, her eyes shining with more tears to come. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. Something came up and I had to make some arrangements.”

“It’s alright,” Arthur assured her, then frowned. “Guinevere, I know you did what you thought you had to do while I was unconscious, but-”

“Say no more,” Guinevere said, silencing him with a finger on his lips and a sad smile. “I know Merlin is innocent and I’m so sorry about what I did to him. I wasn’t in my right mind. Gaius had just announced you had been poisoned and he said you weren’t going to make it through the night-” She sobbed, her eyes filling with tears again.

“Shh, it’s fine. I already told Gwaine to release him.”

“Arthur, there’s more I’d like to say.” Guinevere took a step back, seeming to control herself again. She showed something she had been carrying in her hands. “I found these in our chambers this morning.”

Arthur took the small vials and examined it closely. Guinevere continued talking, saying she had had Gaius examining the contents of the vials and Monmount looking into the marks engraved on it until they traced them back to the merchant. She had brought the man to questioning and had everything prepared in the Council Chambers. Arthur thanked her and kissed her hands, asking her to wait for him there.

Guinevere left with another watery smile and Arthur sat by his desk to wait, shaking his head to himself. Of course Guinevere had taken care of everything. For a moment, Arthur had feared something else had motivated his wife to arrest Merlin, but he should have known better than to think such nonsense. It was not like her to be jealous or selfish like this. She would never accuse Merlin falsely just to punish him for something she had given her blessing beforehand.

“Merlin,” Arthur greeted his manservant as he entered his chambers. Merlin’s hair was a mess and his clothes were wrinkled, but he showed a shy smile at seeing him. “This is one of the two…” Arthur pretended to consider it for a while, “possibly three moments in my life where I’ve actually been glad to see you,” he said playfully.

Merlin huffed a laugh and Arthur’s chest warmed up a little at hearing it. “That’s my thoughts exactly, Sire.” He frowned then. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like death. Well, death warmed up, at least.”

“I can imagine.” Merlin’s voice was nothing but a whisper and Arthur could see real worry in his features.

“Hm. Well, it seems like we’ve both been through something of an ordeal.” Arthur gestured toward the chair in an invitation for Merlin to join him.

“It wasn’t so bad, really,” Merlin said as he moved to take a seat beside Arthur. “Once you get use to the eternal night and the rats, and the moldy pillows, living with a bucket of your own-”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted him, his tone serious now. “I’m sorry about what happened to you. Truly. Soon as I heard, I told them it couldn’t have been you who poisoned me. I had the Cook confirm your alibi.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said softly.

“I also told them you simply weren’t bright enough to organize an assassination attempt,” Arthur amended teasingly.

“That’s very thoughtful.”

“You’re welcome.”

Arthur had already given the talk as finished when Merlin moved to the edge of the chair, all signs of playfulness gone.

“Arthur, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Arthur got up from his chair. “Sorry, Merlin, another time. They’re waiting for me in the Council Chambers.” He walked towards the door. “Thanks to Guinevere, some new evidence has come to light.”

The merchant admitted before the entire court he had supplied the poison and he said it was Morgana who purchased it, not the old sorcerer. Arthur was just too glad about solving the mystery to spare another thought to the old man’s part on the whole scheme. And he was honestly thankful and proud of Guinevere, who had not rested until she had everything under control. Arthur was sure she would have been a great Queen in his absence, if it had come to that.

That night, Guinevere welcomed Arthur into her arms and body again and Arthur was happy to savor her sweet kisses, whispering words of adoration and undying love while she moaned his name in elation.

“Arthur…” she called later, when they were both sated and sleepy, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Hm?” Arthur mumbled, keeping his eyes shut as he stroked her hair. When she did not answer right away, he looked down on her frowning face. “What is it?”

Guinevere sighed and shook her head. “Nevermind. Forget about it.”

“Tell me,” Arthur insisted, moving back a little so that he could face her properly, bringing one of her hands to his lips. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me, right?”

She averted her eyes. “I fear what you’re going to think of me.”

“Nonsense.” Arthur reached for her chin, lifting it up again. “I can’t think nothing but loving thoughts of you, you certainly know that.”

Guinevere bit her lower lip, looking into his eyes with concern before speaking. “It’s just… I don’t think I can deal with sharing you with Merlin anymore.”

Arthur stopped breathing for a while, too stunned to react. He tried not to let his shock show, forcing himself to speak. “Oh,” was all the reaction he could give her.

“I know I said it was fine before,” Guinevere continued, seeming to measure her words, “but I nearly lost you and I started to think about all the times I pushed you into his arms when I should have kept you with me! I know it’s selfish of me, but-”

“It’s not selfish,” Arthur was quick to assure her, feeling guilty that she felt the need to apologize for wanting her husband to be faithful to her. “I made an oath to you. I should have been true to my word. I should never have-”

“Shh,” Guinevere stopped him, caressing his face. “You never betrayed my trust, ever. And I believe you would have kept your word if I hadn’t pushed you away. It’s entirely my fault, I know it was. Only I’m positive I can be a better wife to you from now on, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will!” Arthur said, covering her hand with his own. “And I promise you I’ll be a better husband as well. I owe you nothing short of it.”

Guinevere smiled then and pulled him in for a kiss. Arthur responded with care, trying to ignore the bitter feeling at the pit of his stomach.

Long after she drifted off to sleep, Arthur kept staring at the ceiling of their bed trying to reason with himself. He should not feel this awful about it, not after he had made a vow not too different to himself after nearly losing her. He had kept his resolution since then, he had not laid hand on Merlin nor given him much thought - the dreams didn't count since he could not control them. He simply hadn't put it into words before. Now he had voiced it and he could not take it back. It felt oppressive and final.

‘ _I owe you nothing short of it._ ’ His own words felt like a cage.

Deep down, he knew this day would come. He knew his time with Merlin was borrowed. He was aware he would have to relinquish it sometime soon. He had chosen Guinevere all those years ago, it should be easy to bear the consequences of it. He did love his wife. Yet what he felt for Merlin…

Arthur closed his eyes, cursing. It was nothing but friendship. They had a strong connection, that was all. Arthur had allowed their true and innocent bond to be corrupted all those years ago, it was about time he fixed it. Of course Merlin would understand it, and if he looked at Arthur with those sad eyes it was his own fault for allowing himself to hope for more than it truly was-

Arthur grunted at his own cruelness. It had never been Merlin’s fault. It was all his own. He had taken advantage of Merlin’s feelings for him since the very beginning and he would certainly pay for his actions. It felt like he was already paying, if the tight crushing feeling in his gut was something to account for.

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to let go of his own reluctance. He had promised his wife and he _would_ let Merlin go even if it were the last thing he did.

.Merlin.

It was another testament of Arthur’s own cowardice that he never broached the subject with Merlin. He told himself there was no need to, since Merlin seemed to know it already. As much as Arthur liked to tease him, his servant was no idiot. Besides, Arthur suspected Guinevere had told him something, for he had caught Merlin looking at his Queen with a strangely intense stare, almost calculating, as well as the other way around.

Arthur tried to act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but Guinevere seemed intent on stating her claim on Arthur whenever Merlin was near. Personally, he found it a little bit too harsh on Merlin, yet he could not blame her, not after everything Arthur had put her through.

And if once or twice Arthur had caught himself looking at Merlin’s mouth while he was speaking - like that time when Merlin was helping him with his speech and Arthur was pretending to listen to him while daydreaming about ordering him to shut up and do something else with his mouth instead - well, he was only human.

Meanwhile, Arthur started to make arrangements to invite The Sarrum over to Camelot. After all, the man was the last King of the five Kingdoms Arthur was still to make an alliance with. Guinevere did not seem that excited at the prospect. Arthur was not eager to meet the man in person as well, but Merlin seemed proud of his decision and that alone caused Arthur to set his mind on going on with his plan of bringing peace to the lands.

About a month after Elyan’s death, on the day before The Sarrum’s visit, Arthur decided to surprise Guinevere over the full moon by adorning the bed with some gillyflower garlands to expect her. Of course Merlin had done most of the work, but Arthur had not intended for him to still be there when his wife came into the room.

“Have you missed me?” She asked after seeing it, putting her arms around Arthur’s shoulders.

“Hmmm,” Arthur mumbled and was about to kiss her when he remembered his servant. He looked up, finding Merlin gazing at them with some unidentified intense emotion, which he tried to disguise when Arthur caught him. “Merlin, er, it’s late. You should probably get some sleep.”

Merlin was already moving past them without sparing a sideways glance. “Thank you, Sire,” he said as he went.

When he was about to reach the door, though, Guinevere called him back.

“Oh, Merlin. Before you go, I’d love a hot bath,” she said, even though she had her own maids she could have asked this to.

Arthur chose to ignore the clear provocation in her voice and swept her in his arms in an attempt to distract her from Merlin, making her squeal and giggle as he carried her to their bed.

He did not hear Merlin’s reply, but his servant was already gone by the time Arthur lowered her on the mattress.

Later, while Merlin excused himself to the bedroom after giving them enough privacy, Guinevere insisted on kissing and touching Arthur while Merlin worked, carrying buckets of hot water to prepare the Queen’s bath. Arthur tried to make her stop, but she kept giggling and provoking him until Merlin cleared his throat.

“It’s all ready, My Lady,” he announced with a bow, keeping his eyes down in circumspection.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Guinevere said with too much sweetness to be natural. “You may leave now.”

Arthur watched with a heavy feeling in his gut as Merlin left silently. He sighed and pretended to fall asleep while Guinevere bathed, singing to herself. He should probably call her out for rubbing it into Merlin’s face, he definitely should. It was not like her to do such a thing. After all, they used to be friends, didn’t they? Had Arthur ruined that as well?

When Guinevere slipped back under the sheets, snuggling closer to him, Arthur pretended to move in his sleep, turning away from her. For the first time, he questioned his decision. For the first time he felt something almost - _almost_ \- like regret.

He brushed it aside the next moment, forcing himself to go to sleep, trying not to picture himself running after Merlin to comfort him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and kissing him until he forgot the last entire month ever happened.

.Merlin.

The next day, Merlin was nowhere to be seen. Arthur went after his missing servant, but Gaius told him something about a shy herb his apprentice was after, something to do with opening up the liver and spleen, but Arthur was having none of it. He suspected Merlin had gone to the tavern to drown his sorrows after last night’s ordeal and he would be willing to allow Merlin some sulking if not for the fact that his servant had chosen the worst possible moment to do so. Arthur was under a lot of pressure to prepare for his guest and he needed Merlin by his side, how could Merlin not know it? Or was he deliberately punishing Arthur for allowing him the humiliation Guinevere seemed intent on putting him through?

As much as Arthur deserved the cold shoulder, he was beginning to worry by the next morning. More so when Guinevere seemed determined on suffocating him in his own armory.

“Ow,” Arthur complained. “I want Merlin back, where is he?” He said unthinkingly.

Instead of sounding crossed by Arthur’s statement, she rushed to defend Merlin. “You mustn’t be hard on him.”

“I am a bit worried,” Arthur confessed. “You don’t think something’s happened to him, do you?”

“He’s probably overworked,” Guinevere brushed his worries away. “Maybe just once, let him enjoy himself.”

Arthur sighed. “You’re right.”

“Besides, you’ve got more important things to worry about.”

Indeed, Arthur had enough to get distracted over the duration of the day, while fighting Sarrum’s best man, Albin. The man was surprisingly well skilled with a sword and managed to defeat Arthur on the single combat, although Arthur blamed Merlin's absence for his lack of concentration.

By the third morning, instead of Merlin, Gaius showed up at Arthur’s chambers, looking grim.

“The bed has not been slept in,” the physician explained, rubbing his hands together. “I fear he’s in danger.”

Arthur frowned at the man’s worried face, feeling his insides go cold with fear. “What do you mean?”

Had Merlin ran away? Had he abandoned him? Or had he been kidnapped?

“We need to send a search party,” Gaius insisted, probably guessing the last option.

“What’s happened?” Guinevere asked, stepping out from behind her dressing screen.

Arthur stared at his wife without actually seeing her. “Merlin’s gone missing.”

“Oh, I knew I should’ve said something,” Guinevere sighed, and Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. “Arthur, I feel terrible. This is my fault. I know where Merlin is.”

“Where?” asked Gaius, while Arthur leaned forward, struggling not to urge her to say it already.

“I shouldn’t say.” She looked away, seeming embarrassed. “I promised him I wouldn’t, but… he’s gone to visit someone.”

Arthur stared at her blankly. “Who?” He pressed when she didn’t continue right away.

“He’s not in danger,” she hurried to say in a placating tone. “He’s seeing a girl.”

Arthur blinked, shocked. “ _Merlin_?” He asked, just to be sure they were talking about the same person.

“Gaius, I’m sorry, but there is no reason to worry,” Guinevere continued.

“Except for the poor girl,” Arthur said bitterly.

“I should’ve told you, but I don’t think he wanted anyone to know.”

“Thank you, Milady,” said Gaius.

Arthur averted his eyes, trying to hide his uneasiness by busying himself with the documents he had been going over before. “Good. Then we can get on with the signing. Gaius, you can help me get dressed.”

Arthur was thankful for Gaius’ silence later, as he was lost in his own thoughts. Arthur tried to reason with himself that it was a good thing he had been reading wrong about Guinevere and Merlin’s misunderstanding. They were clearly still friends if Merlin was confiding in her. Except that Arthur could not bring himself to believe it.

If there was indeed someone else, why hadn’t Merlin said something to him? Or had he lied to Guinevere just so she would think he had already moved on from Arthur? Although now that he was thinking about it, Merlin had not complained once when Arthur stopped seeking him. And hadn’t he mentioned there had been a girl before? Maybe Arthur had been fooling himself all this time, thinking he meant something special to Merlin when in truth…

“Don’t be too harsh on him,” Guinevere said later, making Arthur blink.

He looked around but didn't see Gaius anywhere. He could not remember the physician leaving. He frowned at his own clothes; only now realising he was fully dressed.

“Why didn’t he say anything to me?” Arthur asked, hearing the hurt in his own voice.

“Why should he?” Guinevere asked, raising an eyebrow at him in suspicion. “It’s not like he has to answer to you about his love live anymore, is it?”

Arthur averted his wife’s eyes, pretending to better arrange his belt. “It’s not like that. We’re friends. I’d have given him a few days off if he had asked, only not now. He knew I needed him here. For the Sarrum’s visit, I mean,” he amended quickly before his wife’s silence.

Guinevere sighed. “Arthur, he’s being sacrificing himself for you all this time. Surely you cannot blame him for needing some space after all that’s happened.”

The word “sacrificing” made Arthur wince. Had he really been forcing Merlin into something he did not welcome anymore? Was he relieved now that Arthur had apparently lost his interest on him?

Arthur swallowed his own sulking reply and took a deep breath. “I’m not. Blaming him, I mean. I just…” he sighed and looked up to his wife, squaring his shoulder. “You’re right. I have more important things to worry about right now.”

“That’s right, you have,” she smiled at him, taking his arm so that he could lead the way out.

.oOo.

The signing did not go to plan. It turned out the Sarrum had orchestrated to kill him, but ended up killed instead when a nameless kid gave his life to save Arthur’s.

“I still can't believe how lucky I was,” Arthur commented over dinner, when Merlin finally graced them with his presence. “I owe that boy my life and I don't know who he was or where he's from.” He addressed Merlin then. “You need to make sure you give him a decent burial.”

“I'll do that,” Merlin said as he approached the table with Arthur’s food. “If you'll allow me the time.”

“Oh, so you can go and visit that girl again,” Arthur said, forcing his tone into something less bitter and more teasing, knowing his wife had her eyes on him, watching for any hint of reproach or even jealousy.

“What?” Merlin asked as he limped to the other side of the table to serve Guinevere’s food.

“The girl,” Arthur repeated with forced cheerness.

“Don't have one,” Merlin said in dismissal, turning his back on him. He was the picture of innocence. He definitely did not look like someone lying through his teeth.

Arthur noticed his limping again. He started to suspect it had not been a girl, after all. Arthur had a sudden glimpse of Merlin nosing around Guinevere’s wardrobe and his grip on his cup tightened. “That's not what Guinevere tells me,” he pressed.

Merlin turned to look at Guinevere, who smiled sweetly at him. Arthur noticed he did not return the smile.

“So, why don't you tell us all about her?” Arthur continued with a light tone, watching Merlin closely as he filled his master’s cup with wine.

Once again, Merlin looked at Guinevere, who held out her glass for him to fill. Arthur wondered if he was chastising her for ratting out on him.

Merlin limped towards her to pour her drink as well. “Right.”

“And why you're walking with a limp,” Arthur completed before he could stop himself, trying to cover his annoyance by gulping his wine.

Merlin took his time before looking at him with a smile which did not reach his eyes. “Well, she’s… beautiful and have the kindest smile,” he said and Arthur’s nostrils flared. “But it turns out we’re not meant for each other,” he said and turned his back on them to place the jar on a tray at his back. “Now if there isn't anything else you require of me, Sire?”

Arthur averted his eyes from Merlin’s back to find Guinevere sending him a suspicious look. He dismissed Merlin, taking a gulp of his wine to hide his face, in case his discomfort was showing. Later, when Guinevere invited Arthur to bed, he pretended to be busy with some documents. He stayed up most of the night, fuming over Merlin, his “girl” and his limp.

.Merlin.

Arthur knew it was not fair to take his frustration out on Merlin, but he simply could not help it. He felt betrayed and, if he was honest with himself, his ego was bruised by being cast aside like he did not mean a thing to Merlin.

Most of all, though, he would like to hurt this person Merlin had been seeing, make them suffer. Since he could not do any of it, he settled for lashing out on Merlin.

“Is this what you call polishing nowadays, Merlin?” Arthur thrust his chest plate under Merlin’s nose.

Merlin was struggling to carry all the rest of his armor as he followed Arthur through the corridors. “I did not have the time to do it properly, Sire,” he responded, nearly out of breath.

“And why was that?” Arthur said angrily, turning around to face him. “Were you late to meet someone?”

“No,” Merlin said, pressing his lips together as he tried to balance the weight of the armor on his hands before it went all tumbling down. “Because I had to polish your boots and do over your laundry before going to bed.”

“Well, I still don’t see reason to rush. Unless there was someone waiting for you in your bed.”

“Arthur,” Merlin half sighed, half groaned.

Arthur turned on his heels again and resumed walking before he could say anymore.

Merlin did not drop the subject though. “Arthur, surely you must know by now,” he said as soon as he caught up with his King, following him towards his room. “There is no girl!”

“Yes, but only because it didn’t work out between the two of you, as you said,” Arthur stated grudgingly.

“No, because there was never a girl to begin with!” Merlin sounded exasperated.

Arthur turned around again, eyes narrowed. “I knew it. It was a man, wasn’t it?” He grabbed the front of Merlin’s tunic, making him drop half of the armor pieces in a startle. “Wasn’t it?”

“No! There was _no one_!” Merlin insisted, letting go of the rest of the pieces to grab Arthur’s hand with both of his own. “There has never been!”

Arthur searched his eyes as he breathed heavily, but found nothing but honesty and hurt on Merlin’s face.

“Why would I lie to you?” Merlin continued in a lighter tone when Arthur’s grip loosened a fraction.

“Why would you lie to Guinevere, then?” Arthur asked, unable to drop all of his suspicions this easily.

Merlin looked around them and took a step forward, invading his personal space. “Do you trust me?” he asked with a husky voice, his eyes serious and expecting.

Arthur let go of his clothes, torn between taking a step back or another forward. He ended up not moving an inch. “You know I do,” he said, not bothering to disguise his annoyance. “You deny you were seeing somebody, then?”

“Oh, I definitely saw someone,” Merlin said. “Someone who wanted to get rid of me while they planned your assassination.”

“Sarrum?” Arthur frowned. How could he think Merlin was a threat? He doubted the King had ever heard of Merlin to begin with.

Merlin shook his head. “Morgana.”

Arthur took a step back then, as if Merlin’s words had pushed him away. He run his fingers through his hair. “How?”

“She has an ally inside the castle. Someone above suspicion.”

Arthur had a sudden memory of Agravaine walking side by side with Morgana. He also remembered Merlin trying to warn him to no avail. “Who?” he asked darkly.

Merlin swallowed hard, then shook his head. “I can’t tell you. You must see for yourself.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said in a warning tone.

“Arthur, please. You said you trusted me. Let me do it my way.”

“I trust you have good intentions, I don’t trust you method,” Arthur said just for the sake of contradicting him.

He could not blame Merlin for his reluctance, though. Arthur had not been a good listener in the past when Merlin had put in check his trust to the people he most cared about.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Merlin insisted gravely. “Give me one more day. If I cannot show you until then, I’ll tell you regardless. Just don't mention it to anyone, not even Guinevere.”

Arthur hesitated for a moment, but nodded his agreement.

He could not concentrate on anything after that. He looked at his men with suspicion, watching for any hint of deceiving. Someone above suspicion, Merlin had said. Could it be Leon? Gwaine perhaps? They were his most trusted Knights, after all. Had them sold him out to Morgana?

Arthur only half listened to Guinevere as she asked about the levy party which was to leave in a few days.

“Tell everyone you’ll retire early today,” Merlin had instructed Arthur before they entered the Council Chamber that evening. “Wait for me at the west entrance after curfew.”

And so Arthur did. He followed Merlin through the woods without any of them uttering a word. At some point, Merlin gestured for him to hide behind a tree and wait.

“Have you noticed something off in Gwen’s behavior of late?” Merlin asked in a hushed whisper.

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him. “Like what?”

Merlin was watching him with intent. “Is she not acting like herself?”

Arthur averted his eyes, looking at the path ahead, searching for any movement. “She has lost her brother recently,” he avoided the question.

“She also recently was Morgana’s prisoner,” Merlin commented in a looming tone. “Has she told you what happened there?”

“I didn’t ask,” Arthur said, once again rushing to excuse his wife’s behavior. “I didn’t want her to revive all that she’s gone through.”

“She doesn’t seem that affected by it.”

Arthur sighed. “What are you implying at, Merlin?” He wondered if it Merlin wasn't taking things a bit too personally.

“Once we reached the Dark Tower, it was too easy to rescue her.”

“Maybe that’s because Morgana didn’t believe we would actually reach it. Besides, it wasn’t that easy. Elyan died fighting that enchanted sword, which was meant to kill me, by the way.”

“That sword was never meant for you,” Merlin argued passionately, even while keeping his tone down. “Morgana knew someone else would lay their life for you instead. She meant for Gwen to be rescued and brought back to Camelot. Whatever Morgana put her through in that tower, it played with her mind, it messed with her head.”

“Are you trying to convince me Guinevere is Morgana’s ally?” Arthur asked, already regretting going through with Merlin’s plan. “Merlin, this better not have something to do with her telling us to stop seeing each other.”

Merlin seemed taken aback for a moment. “Is this you trusting me?” He sounded put off.

“I’m just saying your judgement might be a bit biased by-”

“Oh, shut up,” Merlin said in a rushed voice and Arthur was about to scold him for it when he listened to the rustling of leaves. He straightened up against the tree he was hiding behind, trying to spy over it as someone approached, coming from the castle. As he watched, a cloaked figure came out of the woods to meet them.

He heard hushed voices, although he could not make out their words. He knew both of them only too well, though. One of them was Guinevere - his kind and beloved Guinevere - and she was handing the other - Morgana - the scroll about the levy party she had been inquiring for just hours ago.

It all went blank in his mind for a moment. Then the emotions rushed back in like an overpowering storm. His eyes stung with anger and betrayal. Arthur slowly unsheathed his sword.

“No, My Lord!” Merlin whispered in a worried tone. “Morgana's too powerful. Now is not the time.”

“How could she do this?” Arthur asked, still struggling to believe his own eyes.

“She's not the Gwen you love,” Merlin tried to reason with him. “She has fallen prey to a dark and powerful magic.”

Arthur was only half-listening to him. “If I lose her, I lose everything.”

It was true, wasn’t it? It should be. It felt like his world was crumbling down once again, just like it had years ago, when he had walked in on her in Lancelot’s arms at the Throne Room. She was his Queen now, the one Arthur had given his heart to despite everything, the one Arthur had chosen to spend the rest of his life with, the one he had chosen over Merlin over and over again. Arthur had trusted his life on her hands, his Kingdom, how could she betray him like this again?

“We'll find a way to bring her back, Arthur,” Merlin said with intent. “I promise.”

Could them get her back? Did Arthur want her back? Was he willing to trust her again?

Arthur was not sure what to make of that. He allowed Merlin to guide him back to the castle and nodded his understanding when Merlin said Arthur should act normal around Guinevere, so that she would not suspect anything out of ordinary while he and Gaius worked a way around Morgana’s doing.

.Merlin.


	12. Twelve

Arthur stayed up all night again, unable to lie in the same bed as his wife. He probably was not acting normal in the slightest by the next morning, too busy doubting every word Guinevere said, trying to work his head around the fact that she had been deceiving him all this time. His Guinevere, the only woman he had ever loved. Did he still love her? Could his love survive another betrayal like this? All the things that happened since she came back from the Tower were probably her doing. The unpicked girth, Tyr’s death - dear God, had it been Guinevere’s hand that wielded the knife which killed the boy? - Arthur’s poisoning, Merlin’s kidnapping…

Arthur looked down at the food he had been playing with, not daring to bring any of it into his mouth. What if she had poisoned it again?

“Arthur, is everything alright?” Guinevere asked.

Arthur looked up at her again, finding her frowning. “What do you mean?”

“You seem distracted.”

“Not at all,” Arthur lied. He forced a smile on his face. “Pressing matters of state, that's all. I'm sorry.”

“I understand. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Arthur shook his head slowly. “That won't be necessary.”

Arthur got up, dismissing her offer to accompany him. He told her something about training, but proceeded to gather Leon and Mordred into an unused room to change the route to collect the levy in secret.

He spent most of the morning avoiding his wife after that. He watched the Main Square from a window while thinking to himself, posing the same questions he had before, still not knowing the answer. At some point, he saw Merlin coming back from an errand at his horse’s back. For the second time after all those years, Arthur questioned his choice.

What would have happened if he had not married Guinevere? What if he had settled just with Merlin instead? Sure, he would have been a bachelor for the rest of his life. He would not be able to crown Merlin his Prince Consort outside the privacy of his old chambers. He would not have anyone to succeed him after his death, not even a Queen. Would his council still indulge him his affair with another man? Would his men still look at his relationship with his manservant as something as harmless as Elyan seemed to view it? Or would they frown upon them? Would his people push him into a marriage sham just for the sake of his Kingdom? 

Would Merlin have settled for it? Merlin seemed to have been so sure Arthur was meant to be with Guinevere. He had gone to the extent of pushing Arthur into her arms in more than one occasion. What if Merlin had been wrong all along? What if he was only trying to protect Arthur, to give him a chance at being with someone who could give him what Merlin could not? He knew Merlin to be selfless to this point, but now he could not help blaming him for it.

The more he thought about it, the more he began to believe he could have been happy with just Merlin. Merlin was his best friend. Merlin never betrayed his trust, ever. He had been there for Arthur when no one else had. If only Arthur himself had known just how much he cared for Merlin back then…

“Sire? Is all well?”

Arthur startled to hear Mordred’s question. He had not noticed the Knight’s approach. “Yes. Thank you,” he said dismissively.

“If there's anything I can do…”

“I'm sorry?” Arthur asked, distracted.

“Just wanted you to know I'm always at your service.”

Arthur smiled to himself before Mordred’s eagerness to please him. “I never doubted it, Mordred,” he assured the boy and turned back to the window as he left.

Arthur wondered if Mordred knew about him and Merlin as well. He was new to Camelot yet, and too young and naive. Perhaps he did not know what his King was - or better yet, used to be - up to with his manservant. Wound Mordred still respect him if he knew? Would he still be loyal to him? Or would he be disgusted?

Arthur wished he had more answers than questions to ask.

.oOo.

Gaius asked for a private meeting later and explained what he had gathered about Guinevere’s condition and the way around it. Merlin corroborated with the whole story. They seemed to have everything already figured out. Arthur listened with a frown, but he still was not sure if he wanted to go through with all that, less so when Gaius mentioned they would have to drug Guinevere to bring her to the Cauldron of Arianrhod to summon a goddess. Too much could go wrong; was it really worth the risk?

“There is no reason to suspect that all will not go well,” Gaius said when Arthur manifested his worries. “My Lord, if we do nothing, Gwen is already taken from you.”

It was true, Arthur knew it. Still…

Arthur looked at his manservant. “Merlin?” He asked, searching his face for any sign of hesitation.

All it would take was one shake of Merlin’s head, the slightest of frowns, and Arthur would give up on everything.

Only, Merlin seemed to be intent on keeping his promise. He nodded his agreement with certainty, giving Arthur no other choice but to move on with it.

“Summoning this goddess, will it require magic?” Arthur asked, trying not to sound as wary as he actually felt. His last encounter with pagan deity’s followers had not been exactly pleasant.

“It is a ritual that can only be performed by a sorcerer,” Gaius said, confirming Arthur’s suspicion. He must have read the uneasiness on Arthur’s posture, for he continued. “It is the only way, Sire. Sorcery has to be fought with sorcery.”

“I'll be breaking my own decrees.”

“To save your Queen, to save your wife,” Gaius argued.

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them to look at Merlin again, finding nothing but clear expectation and faith on his face. Arthur wished Merlin did not believe so much in him, for he would be disappointed to learn how much Arthur’s resolution was wavering. He suspected Merlin would never forgive him if he turned his back on Guinevere now, while there was still hope of bringing her back. After all, she was his friend too.

Besides, no amount of questioning over his past decisions would change it. Arthur had chosen Guinevere, he would have to stick with his decision until the very end.

“Very well. It's decided,” Arthur said at last, trying to show a confidence he did not feel.

He asked about the sorcerer and they settled on the details of their plan before getting started on the preparations.

Later, when Arthur got to his chambers, Guinevere confronted him about his lie. She knew he had not been on the training field, she knew he was hiding something from her.

“Have I done something wrong? Spoken out of turn? Said something I shouldn't? I'm your wife, Arthur! I wouldn't see you hurt for the world. Now tell me what's troubling you.”

There it was, the answer to some of his questions. Arthur knew she was acting it, he knew she was just trying to earn his trust back, yet it had been true once. The old Guinevere, the one he had married, the one he had loved - and deep down he still did, although something seemed to have changed - would never do something to hurt him on purpose. And Arthur could never abandon her, the same way he would never abandon one of his men, one of his subjects.

Arthur reached for her arms, caressing them with all the affection he had nurtured for her during all those years. “I love you, Guinevere, more than you can imagine,” he said, sadly. And it felt true, he really loved her and cared about her, only not like he had once before. “There isn't anything I would not do for you.”

“I know, but-”

Arthur did not allow her to finish her argument, pulling her into a tight embrace. Maybe Merlin had known it all along, how incapable he was of letting her or anyone down, but now he felt the confidence he had faked before, he knew for sure he was doing the right thing.

.Merlin.

With Gaius’ aid, they drugged the Queen and carried her outside the Castle where their long journey begun. It was supposed to be just the two of them taking Guinevere, but Merlin had one of his funny feelings again, telling they were being followed.

They progressed slowly on foot with all the things Merlin had to carry on his arms while Arthur carried Guinevere. They were bordering a cliff when Merlin slipped down and got himself knocked out. Arthur did not even hesitate before putting his unconscious wife down and climbing down as well to try and save him. He ended up slipping as well and got his arms stuck under a fallen rock. Arthur had been about to despair for the sake of the three of them when Mordred showed up and helped them out of the cliff.

It appeared Mordred had been the one tailing them, but Arthur never felt more grateful for the boy’s nosing around.

“Without you, I fear I would have lost my arm at the very least,” Arthur thanked Mordred when they camped for the night.

“I would have woken,” Merlin said grudgingly.

Arthur noticed he was eyeing Mordred with open mistrust, but could not help teasing him. “Merlin, if I had to rely on your timekeeping, I'd have lost both my arms and my legs to boot,” he said, watching Merlin huff in indignation. He turned to Mordred again. “It's good to have you with us. Three's always better than two, isn't that right, Merlin?” Arthur nudged Merlin, hiding a smirk.

Merlin looked at him as if struggling to believe his audacity before answering. “Of course,” he said, his tone forcefully even, his back too stiff to be natural.

Arthur saw the two of them exchanging a charged look and shook his head to himself. It figured Merlin would still be jealous of him even after all the extent Arthur had gone to prove to him he was not that way inclined towards Mordred.

.Merlin.

They were attacked by Morgana’s dragon the next morning and they had to leave Mordred behind when the Knight tried to buy them some time. Somehow, though, Mordred caught up with them later, while Arthur waited for Merlin to bring the sorceress, with a still unconscious Guinevere laid down on the floor by the shore of the lake. Arthur couldn't fathom how Mordred had managed to defeat Morgana, but he was distracted from questioning the boy when The Dolma, the sorceress Gaius had told them to procure, showed up.

There was something familiar about her, Arthur noticed, although he was confident he had never met the woman before or he would definitely remember it.

“My Lord, where's Merlin?” Mordred questioned after taking a measuring look at the woman and only then Arthur looked around, realizing Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

Arthur shot the woman a suspicious gaze, moving to get his sword in a menacing gesture. “What have you done with my servant?”

“Oh... The gangly boy. Hmm…”

Oh no, Arthur should have known better. He should never have allowed Merlin to go by himself. Alas, he should never have come, trusting in a magic user against his own judgement! Arthur unsheathed his sword and moved towards the woman with all the intention to make her pay if she had so much as laid a finger on Merlin.

“If you kill me, you'll never see him again,” the Dolma said, looking unfazed by the threat. “I am an old woman. Is it not natural I seek some surety? The boy will be returned to you when we have concluded our business.”

“You know why we're here,” Arthur more stated than questioned.

“Nothing is hidden from the Dolma,” the sorceress confirmed in her weird manners. “Now hurry, before your Queen awakes. Set her by the pool.”

Arthur put his sword away once again and moved to follow the woman’s instruction.

The sorceress kneeled next to Guinevere to better examine her. “Great King, the magic which has ensnared your Queen is strong indeed. It can be fought. It can be broken, but it may also prevail. Do you understand this?” she asked, looking him in the eye.

“I do.”

“What we attempt will not be easy. If we fail, your Queen will be lost forever.”

“I understand,” Arthur said gravely.

“Very well. When I awake Guinevere from her sleep, she must walk into the Cauldron of Arianrhod of her own will. Only then will the spell be broken. But be warned, all the magic that binds her will fight against it.”

Arthur frowned at her words. “How then can we succeed?”

Apart from all the weirdness, she looked almost as if she cared when she continued with her instructions. There was something resembling kindness around her wrinkled eyes. “You must reach her, Arthur,” she stood up with some difficulty. “Reach that part of your Queen which has remained untouched by the evil of Morgana.”

Arthur frowned, uncertain. “Is there such a part?”

“You must believe there is,” she said and motioned for Arthur to come closer. “Prepare. When she wakes, you will have but a few moments.”

She kneeled again and held a hand over Guinevere, saying some incantations. Arthur helped the old woman stand, but nothing seemed to have happened for a while. Arthur hovered over his wife and watched her begin to stir, then wake with a startle.

Guinevere’s first reaction was to question Arthur and try to get away from him. Arthur caught her by the arms, trying to call to something inside of her, but it seemed in vain. Her cruel words stung deep within him, but he tried to reason with himself. Those were not her words, but the result of Morgana’s spell on her.

“You loved me once,” Arthur said.

“You are easily fooled, Arthur.” Her answer was full of spite.

“And still do.”

“It was a trick,” she retorted with a vicious smile. “Nothing more. A subterfuge to pass Camelot to its rightful Queen.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Believe what you like. The fact remains.” Guinevere struggled to free herself from Arthur’s grasp, but he did not release her.

Arthur begun to drag Guinevere towards the pool while she struggled, but the sorceress scolded him for it. “No! It must be of her own will!”

“Look at me.” Arthur pulled Guinevere closer to him then, looking her in the eye. “Tell me you don't love me.”

“Let me go!”

“Arthur!” The Dolma urged, sounding alarmed, but Arthur did not look back at her this time, keeping his eyes on Guinevere.

“Do you remember when I asked you to marry me? Do you remember what you said?” Arthur asked, watching her squint at him, like she did not know what he was talking about. “You said ‘with all my heart’. That's what you said, Guinevere. That was no subterfuge. No trickery.” Those words made Guinevere quit her attempts to get free and look back at him as if seeing him for the first time. “With all my heart,” Arthur repeated, letting go of her and walking backwards slowly, towards the lake. “With all my heart.”

Guinevere’s breath hitched as Arthur stepped into the cold water, her brow furrowing. “With all my heart,” she echoed softly.

Arthur extended a hand to her. “Come,” he called.

Guinevere placed her hand in Arthur’s and stepped into the lake.

The sorceress did not hesitate before saying the incantations once Guinevere reached the middle of the pool, with the water above her waistline. Guinevere was surrounded by a blinding white light after the words were spoken. When it faded, she looked back at Arthur… and smiled her sweet smile, extending her hand to Arthur.

Arthur walked towards her and embraced her, releasing a relieved breath. They had managed it, they had brought her back. Arthur kissed his wife’s forehead, feeling grateful for the unknown deity which inhabited that lake, for answering to their call.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Guinevere whispered as she clung to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh.” Arthur caressed her hair. “Say no more, my love. It wasn’t your doing.”

After he made sure she was holding herself together, they both left the water. Arthur thanked The Dolma and offered to grant her any wish, for her trouble.

“Remember what saved your Queen,” the woman said. “Magic and sorcery.”

“It was also sorcery that bewitched her,” Arthur argued.

“There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men. My request is that you remember this.”

Arthur nodded. “You have my word.”

It was a reasonable request, after all. The woman had been nothing but kind.

The Dolma offered him a small smile in return, bowing her head slightly. Mordred came back after gathering their belongings, gesturing that everything was in order for them to leave. There was only one thing missing, but Arthur was planning on getting Guinevere to safety before coming back to look for Merlin. He wasn’t sure if his wife’s previous request for staying away from Merlin had been the enchantment’s doing or if she had really changed her mind about their agreement and he did not want to upset her by showing just how distressed he felt by Merlin’s absence.

Not that he feared for his servant’s life that much. Somehow, The Dolma had showed to be wise and kind hearted like Gaius had assured she would be. Arthur was counting that she had not harmed Merlin, but he _ would _ make her pay if she had, and no amount of gratitude would save her from his vengeance if that were the case.

He turned his back on the sorceress to guide Guinevere away, but the woman called them back. “Aren't you forgetting something?”

Arthur turned back to her, faking puzzlement. He looked around, then checked for his sword and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“The boy,” The Dolma said, looking irritated.

Arthur pretended to take a moment to realize what she was saying, avoiding looking at his wife. “Ah... Ah. Of course. I thought everything had gone unusually smoothly.”

“That boy was your surety, great King!” The sorceress chastised. “Without him, your Queen would still be lost.”

Arthur wrinkled his nose. “I'm not sure that's quite true.”

“And I say it is!”

Arthur raised his eyebrows at the passion with which the woman defended his servant. She looked thoroughly annoyed with his apparent indifference.

“You owe him a greater debt than you can possibly know,” she said, stepping closer to him.

“Right. Erm... I'm sorry. I'll give him the afternoon off,” Arthur said, dismissive, still avoiding looking at Guinevere.

The Dolma sighed. “One day, great King, you will recognise the true worth of those that surround you.”

Arthur did not say a word in return. For someone who claimed to know everything, she was clearly unaware of some things. Like how much Arthur truly valued Merlin, despite his efforts to hide it. Alright, maybe he was not that good at showing how much he cared for Merlin on a normal day, but that was not the point at all.

The woman dispatched them assuring Merlin would join them soon enough and Arthur followed Mordred and Guinevere up the hill. He tried not to look back to see if Merlin was following behind them, but then Guinevere sent him a knowing gaze and he knew he was failing.

Arthur exhaled in relief when he looked back and saw Merlin hurrying to catch up with them, looking a bit unkempt, but otherwise unharmed.

“You you never fooled me, you know?” Guinevere said when Mordred walked back to join Merlin, leaving them alone.

Arthur looked at her, squaring his shoulders, unsure if she was reproaching him or merely testing his loyalty to his word. Even if his wife had been under Morgana’s spell when she asked Arthur to keep his distance from Merlin, Arthur had given her his word and he would never break a promise. “What do you mean?”

Guinevere smiled sadly at him, reaching for his hand. “You do not have to pretend you don’t care about him. I know you do.”

“Guinevere,” Arthur frowned as his wife, unsure of how to reassure her. “You know I love you and I’m-”

“I know you do,” she interrupted him, her eyes filling with tears. “But I also happen to know your heart is big enough for the both of us. In fact, it’s big enough for the entirety of Camelot. I knew from the beginning I’d have to share you with your subjects and I might not have realized about Merlin right away, but I could never ask you to give up on him on my account.”

“Gwen-” Arthur tried again worried at her open distress, but she did not allow him to finish.

“I release you from your promise once again, Arthur. You are free to be with him as your heart desires. He’s more deserving of you than I’ll ever be after all that’s happened-” She sobbed.

“I’ll have none of this!” Arthur protested, but Guinevere did not seem to be listening.

“He never poisoned you, nor killed an innocent man just to cover his track-”

“It was never you! It was Morgana!”

“It was my hand which wielded the knife; my hand which poured the poison. I know you forgave me, but I don’t think I can forgive myself right now.”

“Gwen?”

They both turned around at listening to Merlin’s tentative voice. He had stopped a few feets away from them and was watching with concerned eyes. Guinevere offered him a wobbling smile and extended her arms. Merlin moved at once, accepting her hug.

“I’m sorry, Merlin, my dear friend, please forgive me…” Guinevere said between sobs while Merlin tried to comfort her with soft words.

Arthur stepped away to give them some privacy. He wiped the tears which had rolled down his face and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He was feeling a mixture of elation and sorrow. The last time he had seen Guinevere in this state, she had locked herself in their room and closed up from the world for months. He did not think he could handle seeing her like that again, even if she had given her blessing to Merlin and him once more.

He felt like a failure of a husband again. He wished he was not so happy about being able to have Merlin back, but he was. God, he was so relieved. His only fear was that Merlin had already moved on. He had said there had been no one else, but what if he had given his heart to another? What if he had changed his mind about Arthur? What if he refused to be with him again after Arthur had so easily disposed of him?

Arthur swallowed all those insecurities when he heard someone approaching.

“We should get on the move, Sire,” he heard Mordred say. “Maybe we can reach the horses by nightfall.”

“Of course,” Arthur said, clearing his throat. “Let’s get going.”

That night, when they set camp, Merlin offered to keep first watch and Mordred fell asleep as soon as his head rested on his bent arm. Arthur tried to stay close to Guinevere, but she shooed him away, saying she needed some time to herself.

Arthur sat close to Merlin then, looking at the fire as it consumed the logs.

“I’m glad we got her back, Sire,” Merlin said and Arthur did not doubt his honesty.

Sometimes, he wished Merlin was more selfish.

“Me too, Merlin. Me too.”

“She’ll get through this,” Merlin continued, offering him a reassuring smile. “She’s a tough woman.”

“I know she will,” Arthur said, locking his eyes with Merlin’s.

Merlin averted his eyes, his smile gone. Arthur tried to reach for Merlin's face, but he moved away from his touch. “ _ Arthur _ ,” he hushed, looking at Mordred’s and Guinevere’s asleep forms half hidden by the shadows cast by the fire.

“ _ Mer _ lin,” Arthur insisted, grabbing Merlin’s arm and leaning over his shoulder to nose at his neck before Merlin could react again. Merlin smelled of fresh sweat and - strangely - mold, but Arthur was too glad to mind.

Merlin nearly fell into the fire in his haste to move away from his grasp, looking back at their companions with round eyes. Mordred stirred in his sleep, but Guinevere did not move an inch, albeit her shoulders were too tense for her to be sleeping.

“Are you insane?” Merlin whispered, reproachful.

“I think we already covered that I can be as insane as I wish to be, Merlin,” Arthur whispered back, covering his aprehension with cockyness.

Merlin gaped at him for a moment. “You just got your wife back!”

“And she just shooed me away! In fact, she actually told me to search for more welcoming arms to spend the night in.” Arthur arched his eyebrow in a silent question.

Merlin crossed his arms in answer, his gaze murderous. “Does these arms seem welcoming to you?”

Arthur sighed theatrically. “Well, I guess I’ll have to cuddle with Mordred then.”

Arthur moved to get up, but Merlin reached for his forearm, pulling him down again. Arthur had to cough to suppress a laugh at Merlin’s fierce expression.

“I gather you take it back, then?” Arthur teased when Merlin did not say a word.

Merlin huffed and averted his eyes, but did not push Arthur away when he moved to lay down near the fire, resting his head on Merlin’s thigh.

“You’re too bony, Merlin,” Arthur complained as he searched for the best position before closing his eyes and sighing.

“You’re welcome to pillow your royal head on the rocks, then,” Merlin said, although he did not sound as if he meant it.

Arthur was already drifting off to sleep when he felt Merlin’s hand running through his hair; he would like to have smiled smugly at that, but he was lost to the world by then.

.Merlin.

“Arthur!” Merlin gasped as he climaxed for the second time, pouring his seed all over Arthur’s hand and his own stomach.

Arthur kissed him to muffle his moans and sped up his own thrusts until he was filling Merlin with his own semen, groaning as his muscles contracted to expel all of it. When he opened his eyes again, Merlin was looking at him with half lidded eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Arthur pulled out of him, and allowed him to stretch his legs, but did not move from over him, settling so that his weight did not crush him.

Arthur wiped his hand on the sheets, earning a frown from his servant. “You never told me why you were limping the other day.”

Merlin sighed, closing his eyes. “Well, let me see. I was knocked against a tree trunk, thrown down a cliff, then fell down a hill trying to escape from some bandits on my way back to Camelot-”

“Sounds like something you’d do,” Arthur commented just for the sake of good old bantering.

Merlin shrugged, ignoring the provocation. “I have no idea why I would limp after all that.”

Arthur searched until he found a scar of a deep cut on Merlin’s right leg, above his knee. He traced the scar lightly with his finger, then looked up to find Merlin watching him.

“You really thought I had eloped with someone else?” Merlin asked, his voice rough with sleep.

Arthur supported his head over his bent arm, his face hovering above Merlin’s. “I thought you were punishing me for abandoning you without so much as a word.” He slid his hand up Merlin’s leg and torso.

Merlin averted his eyes, swallowing audibly. “Gwen told me to stay away from you.”

Arthur’s hand reached Merlin’s chest, circling a nipple and playing with his chest hair. Arthur frowned as he followed his finger’s path with his eyes. “Since when you knew about Morgana’s spell on her?”

“I found out too late. You were already poisoned when I worked it out. Then you woke up and praised her before the whole court about finding the vials, so I figured you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I had to show you.”

Arthur sighed, stopping his ministrations to look at his servant’s distressed face. He wanted to tell him how grateful he was, but at the same time he did not believe words could express exactly how much he owed Merlin. So he kissed Merlin, slow and caring, holding Merlin’s hand in place when he brought it to Arthur’s face.

“I missed your bed,” Merlin whispered into his lips, the cheeky bastard.

“My bed?” Arthur huffed indignantly.

Merlin shrugged, getting more comfortable under him. “Well, it’s much better than mine, mind. It’s soft and large. I am even willing to tolerate your extremely inconvenient attentions just to spend the night on it.”

“Inconvenient, huh?” Arthur grunted, shifting so that their hips could grind together as he moved.

“ _ Extremely _ ,” Merlin emphasised, the corner of his eyes crinkling with undisguised mirth.

“I guess you’ll have to tolerate my  _ extremely inconvenient _ attentions some more to earn it tonight, for I’m not finished with you just yet.”

“Dear me, I’ll probably be limping again tomorrow.”

“I’ll make sure you are.”

.Merlin.

During the following weeks, Arthur mostly divided his time between Merlin and Guinevere. Fortunately, his wife did not wallow in sadness like Artur feared she might have done; she was more taciturn at times, often lost in thoughts with a furrowed brow, but she also answered to Arthur’s smiles and allowed him to distract her most of the time. They mainly cuddled at night, but Arthur was not exactly complaining. He was in fact relieved, if he were to be true with himself. He still loved his wife dearly, but his feelings for her had transformed into something close to kinship and they seemed to have reached an agreement about it without the need for words.

One morning, Guinevere proposed that the three of them went out on a picnic. She made a point to ask for Merlin to join them to eat instead of merely serve them and sit outside their blanket. Arthur smiled softly at her at noticing her effort to keep Merlin included in their talk.

The next morning, Arthur decided to surprise Guinevere with breakfast in bed. Of course he asked Merlin to prepare it and bring it to him, although his servant proved once again he was incapable of following direct orders, as he forgot the flowers Arthur had specifically asked for. And he somehow managed to stumble on his way out, making Guinevere suspect the whole thing.

He should have known it was too good and peaceful to last long.

The next morning, Morgana declared war.

.Merlin.

At first, the threat seemed too distant to be true, so they moved on with their routine after taking some measures to warrant the safety of the people until the moment of battle. Arthur even organized a hunting trip with his closest men, enjoying some time away from the castle. The normality of it calmed him, at least until they found an overturned carriage and a couple of dead Knights close to the city borders. Apparently they had been attacked by saxons over their cargo: weapons bound for Camelot.

After the incident, Arthur reviewed their supply routes and dispatched more patrols, telling his men to be alert, reminding them - and himself - they were at war.

He called Merlin to accompany him on a patrol, just the two of them like the old times. It had been all teasing and bantering until they stumbled on a fresh trail coming from the castle into the woods. Arthur followed the footprints into a cave and almost to his death by the hand of a deceiving druid girl. It seemed once again there was someone inside Camelot helping his enemies.

.oOo.

Despite the undeniable attempt on his life, Arthur brought the girl to a fair trial. She looked too young and naive to be acting on her own, so he gave her a chance to repent from her crimes. Yet she was relentless in her hatred towards Arthur, as if it had been him who had persecuted her people, not his father.

With no other choice, he sentenced her to hang in the morning.

Later that day, as Merlin was helping him out of his armor, Mordred came into his chambers and kneeled before him.

“It was me,” Mordred confessed. “I was the one who took the herbs to the Druid girl. Arthur, I'm asking you, please, to reconsider your sentence.”

Arthur was touched by the way Mordred seemed to openly care for the girl, not even bothering to hide his tears as he opened up his heart, vouching for the girl’s innocence and declaring his deep feelings towards her since he was a child.

Arthur motioned for Mordred to get on his feet and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you,” he said and watched Mordred nodd. “You're a Knight of Camelot. It's a bond we share. Yet what you ask… This girl, she is a danger. Not just to me. She's a sworn enemy of Camelot, ruthless to the cause.”

Mordred was shaking his head, his eyes round and pleading. “No. I will change that. She'll listen to me.”

“I cannot risk the lives of my citizens, Mordred, no matter who asks.”

Mordred looked down for a moment. When he raised his head again, his eyes were filled with more tears. “I beg you, Arthur.”

It broke Arthur’s heart to say his next words, but he had to do it rather than give Mordred false hope. There was no escaping it. He wished there was. “She's admitted her guilt. I have no option. I'm sorry.”

Mordred swallowed. He bowed down. “Sire,” he excused himself and left with his shoulders slumped.

Filled with sorrow for the young man, Arthur looked down at his hands, taking his gloves off.

“What of the bond between Knights?” he heard Merlin’s voice at his back.

“The law must be applied,” Arthur told him, unwavering. “It is paramount.”

Merlin wasn’t convinced, though. “You're breaking his heart. You'll lose his trust. Think again.”

Arthur never thought he would see the day Merlin would defend Mordred, but there he was, if only to contradict his King. Merlin did not understand how difficult it was for Arthur. There were things a Regent had to do, no matter how much it pained him. He could not simply bend the law to his liking.

“There's nothing I can do,” Arthur insisted. “In time, Mordred will understand that. He'll come to forgive me.”

Merlin looked really concerned. “I fear you're wrong, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded his understanding. “Only time will tell.”

And so it happened. Not much time had passed when Mordred came back to apologize for his previous behavior and Arthur was happy to put the whole thing behind them.

“I knew he'd come round,” Arthur muttered to himself when Mordred left, satisfied that it had happened sooner than he expected.

.oOo.

That same evening, Arthur was having a quiet dinner with Guinevere when Merlin strode in, looking troubled, claiming Mordred was intending on helping the druid girl escape.

For more than Arthur was unwilling to believe that, it never crossed his mind to dismiss Merlin’s words before the open distress on his face. Arthur hastily followed Merlin to the dungeons, but it turned out to be too late. The guards were asleep, the cells were open and the girl was nowhere to be seen. Arthur commanded his men on the pursue, telling them to put aside all personal feelings for the fugitives. He was too upset to dwell upon another betrayal now. He needed to act.

They found the couple in the forest not far from the citadel borders.

“Let her go,” Mordred pleaded, although he kept his sword in hand. “We will leave Camelot and never return. You have my word. Please.”

Arthur was tempted to let him, he truly was. At the same time, he had endured too many treasons to count. How many times would he be made a fool of yet? How many more could he endure before learning not to trust so openly? Before learning to harden his own heart to protect himself?

Fortunately, Percival knocked Mordred out before Arthur had to command his men to fight him. The other Knights had no trouble arresting Kara again, for the girl was still too weak to offer resistance. It did not stop her from cursing them viciously, though, as she was escorted back to the castle.

“What about him, Sire?” Percival asked as he looked up from Mordred’s limp form.

Arthur wished he knew.

“Take him to the dungeons as well,” he stated, hoping he would figure it out soon enough.

.oOo.

“Should I allow him to go free?” Arthur asked when Merlin showed up at his room later that night, asking to speak with him.

Merlin seemed to consider it for a moment. “Free them both,” he said, at last.

“The girl's murdered innocent men in cold blood,” Arthur reasoned. “We are at war, I must be resolute.”

“Well, how will one more death bring about the peace we long for?” Merlin argued back. “She's young, I don't believe she's beyond redemption. You've witnessed their love for each other, that's something far greater than her desire to serve Morgana or her cause. Give her one more chance, she'll take it.”

Arthur’s heart yearned to agree with Merlin. He knew what that kind of love was capable to do, yet his responsibilities were far greater than what concerned the couple alone. He wished Merlin would understand it. “As King, I'm sworn to uphold the law. It's the future of Camelot that concerns me.”

“Please, Arthur,” Merlin insisted. “You have to listen to me-”

“It's my decision,” Arthur cut him off, unable to bear Merlin’s expectations on him any longer. “My decision alone.”

Arthur turned his back on Merlin’s hurt face. He could not turn his back on his own feelings, though, and they were screaming for him to listen to his servant’s arguments. Arthur looked back at some point, but Merlin was already leaving.

.oOo.

Arthur had the whole night to weight his choices. By dawn, he asked Leon to bring the girl to the Throne Room and offered her a second chance.

“I know that the Druids are a peaceful people,” Arthur said. “And you are young and impressionable, an easy target for the likes of Morgana. If you repent your crimes, I will spare your life.”

The girl’s resolution seemed to waver for a moment, but she ended up raising her chin in stubbornness, despite Merlin’s optimistic predictions. “I cannot repent a crime I have not committed.”

And so Arthur watched her hang, even though he felt no pleasure in it whatsoever. On the contrary, he felt like he was bringing doom over his own head, like he was killing her with his own bare hands. He had an awful feeling as he stood there in the balcony, watching it from above. He saw Guinevere in Kara’s place, her feet hanging above the floor, her neck bent in an awkward angle, and for a moment he had a glimpse of himself standing in the middle of the squarer looking up at Uther in that same balcony. In his vision, his father looked down on him with a stone cold face.

_ What have I done _ , Arthur asked himself.

.oOo.

The guards found Mordred’s cell empty after the execution. The door had been torn from its hinges as if by magic - and now that Arthur thought about it, Mordred had been a druid himself, he could have easily done it.

“It's almost like he's vanished,” Merlin reported. “The guards searched as far as the river. There was no sign.”

“I let him in,” Arthur stated, feeling the weight of his own guilt.

“You have a good heart, don't blame yourself for that.”

Arthur could not listen to Merlin's praising. He did not feel like indulging himself in Merlin’s trust at the moment. “I shouldn't have trusted him,” he rubbed his hands over his face, then brought them together, folding his hands down and resting his chin on them, his eyes unfocused. “I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?”

It felt like he had sealed his fate and the fate of that war. The words of The Disir haunted his thoughts for a moment before Arthur could brush them off again.

Merlin’s answer was nearly inaudible. “I hope not.”

Only, Arthur knew he had done all wrong. He should have listened to Merlin from the very beginning. He should have allowed Mordred to take his girlfriend and leave. He should not have expected Mordred to put his loyalties to his King above his love for the girl. Better yet, Arthur should not have put so much expectations on the boy. He should have thought better before knighting Mordred, bringing him into his inner circle.

A druid. He had Knighted a druid.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Sire?” Merlin asked softly, reminding Arthur of his presence.

Arthur raised his eyes to look at him. Loyal, supportive Merlin. Hadn’t he suspected Mordred from day one? Hadn’t he tried to warn his King about his misplaced trust? Arthur had dismissed it all with jealousy, but somehow Merlin - and his recurrent funny feelings - seemed to have the persisting habit of knowing when someone had the potential to harm him on any way.

“ _ One day, great King, you will recognise the true worth of those that surround you, _ ” Arthur reminded the words the sorceress had said to him.

“I wish there was, Merlin,” Arthur said, at last. “Short of going back in time and fixing it, I’m afraid there’s nothing you or I can do now.”

Merlin looked sad as he lowered his eyes. Arthur had no doubt Merlin would do just that, if he had the power to. Merlin hesitated for a moment, but left, allowing Arthur to lose himself inside his own head once again.

.Merlin.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, folks... If you watched the series, you know where this is going, so I suggest you read it with caution.

The bright side of being at war was that you got to enjoy the smallest of things, making the best of whatever moment of happyness or fun you could get, like simply being amongst friends. That night at the tavern was one of those moments.

Arthur could not remember the last time Merlin had looked so happy and carefree like when he rolled the dice, betting all his money on a strike of luck. He was particularly daring and he took all of Arthur’s money easily, like he had never doubted he would win that night. He also made fun of Arthur as he cheekily won round after round, although perhaps part of all that confidence probably had something to do with the amount of ale he had ingested.

By the end of the night, Merlin could not even walk straight.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Arthur asked when Merlin moved to follow him upstairs.

“I’ll… uh… help you undress, Sire,” Merlin said, clinging to him with a fierce grip, as if he would fall on his bottom if he let go - he was unsteady enough, come to think of it.

“I think you’ll have trouble undressing yourself as it is, Merlin,” Arthur said, pretending to be annoyed when in fact he was just amused. “Go to bed. I can manage without you tonight.”

Arthur had spent most of the week with Merlin, it was only fair that he would sleep in the Royal Chambers for a change.

“Right,” Merlin said and let go of him, taking a few wobbling steps. “G’night, Sire.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Merlin?”

Merlin had to support his weight on the wall to keep still as he looked back. “Yes, Sire?”

“Wrong direction.”

Merlin looked around, realizing he was walking towards the Kitchen. “Oh, right.” He saluted Arthur before changing his course, moving towards Gaius’ chambers.

Arthur watched until his servant opened the door and stumbled in before continuing his way up to his chambers.

The following morning, Merlin was unusually quiet while helping Arthur get dressed, but Arthur figured he had a nasty hangover and even teased him for it, but his servant did not rise to the bait.

Merlin excused himself after that, saying something about helping Gaius when a Knight came in to inform them there had been a saxon attack to the garrison at Stowell and there were many wounded coming back to be treated.

Morgana had made her first move. She had been gathering an army for some time now, it was bound to happen soon. It was clear she meant to take Camelot next, only now they had enough time to plan their defense.

Arthur gathered his council at the round table and listened for their report. Leon suggested they stay at the citadel and held their ground, but Arthur did not want to risk more of his subjects lives while they relied on the city walls for their own safety.

“We cannot save everyone, Arthur. No matter how much we may wish it,” Guinevere reasoned.

Arthur looked around the table, making sure he had his Knights’ attention. “There is a way, one way alone. We insure that she never makes it this far.”   
  
“We… ride out and meet them?” Percival asked.

“Man to man,” Arthur confirmed.

Leon interjected next. “But, Sire, Morgana commands an army of thousands.”

“Nonetheless,” Arthur stood firm on his resolution. “It’s our duty as protectors of this land. We cannot stand by and let our citizens be slaughtered. Those are not the values that Camelot was built on. Whatever the outcome of this battle, my sister cannot and will not desecrate those values.” Arthur assessed his men once again. “The war has begun.”

Since he had heard the news of the attack, Arthur had a feeling of impending finality. This was the moment he had been yearning and fearing at the same time. For better or for worse, this rivalry with his sister was bound to come to an end and Arthur was ready to face her - or at least as ready as he could be. He knew he could never be a true King if he did not defeat Morgana once and for all and he was prepared to give his life to his people, if it came to that. He would succeed or he would die trying. As he looked at the faces around him, Arthur knew his men understood it only too well and he knew he could count on them. He only hoped he was leading them to their victory, rather than their doom. As long as they stood united, they still had a chance to win this battle for good.

After dismissing his Knights, Arthur reunited with his closest men and his Queen to discuss their strategy. Fortunately, Percival knew the best place for them to hold their defenses against Morgana’s army despite their uneven numbers, a valley called Camlann.

Once they had it settled, they started with the preparations. They had to leave immediately if they intended to reach the right spot before Morgana’s army.

At some point that day, Arthur walked into his chambers to find his armor all laid out on the table.

“I think that you'll find that’s everything, Sire,” Merlin said when Arthur assessed it with arms crossed over his chest.

“Impressive,” Artur admitted. “Very impressive. I’ve never seen work like it. Not from you, anyway.”

Merlin chucked. “Thank you, Sire.”

“So what are you after?” Arthur chose to get straight to the point, as he walked to his desk.

“After?”

“Come on, Merlin. You’re the worst servant in the history of the world. Now suddenly this!” Arthur mocked. “Is it money?”

“No,” came Merlin’s answer at his back.

“No, it can't be that. You already won all of mine.” Arthur grabbed his map and walked back to his servant. “Time off?”

“Arthur…”

“No. It can't be that either,” Arthur said, pretending to examine the scroll as he kept up with his teasing. “You don't really do anything.”

“I just wanted to make sure you had all you needed for your journey to Camlann. For the days ahead.”

Arthur looked up, impressed by the answer and maybe a little put off that Merlin did not seem to rise to the bait. “Thank you…” Arthur trailed off, frowning in confusion. There was something bothering him in that speech. He realized Merlin had kept looking ahead, hand at his back, eyes cast down the entire time. “Merlin, what do you mean,  _ my  _ journey?”

Merlin hesitated for a moment before finally looking at him. “I'm afraid I won't be coming with you. Not this time.” His voice was soft, his eyes sad, which made Arthur start to think he was being serious about this. “I'm sorry. I have an urgent errand to run for Gaius. Vital supplies that I can't attain here.” His voice was a little strange at the end, as if he was struggling not to show his true emotions.

“Vital supplies?” Arthur asked, disbelieving. He felt like someone had pulled the ground from beneath his feet.

Never, in a thousand years, would Arthur have suspected the day would come when he would have to face a battle without Merlin by his side. Arthur could not remember the last time he had left the castle walls without his servant and friend. Why was Merlin doing this  _ now _ , of all times? Didn’t he understand how important this combat was, what was really at stake?

“Yes,” Merlin confirmed, his brow furrowing. “It's not that I’m-”

“No, no,” Arthur interrupted his weak excuses, looking down on the map he was still holding without really seeing it. “It's fine,” he said, trying to keep his hurt from showing in his face when he looked up, although he knew he was failing terribly. “It's fine. I understand.”

“Arthur-” Merlin started, pleading, yet Arthur found that he could not bear to listen to it. Whatever it was, it became clear that there was something Merlin was hiding from him. What could be more important than this? Than showing his support for his King in this ultimate encounter against his sister? How did he expect Arthur to make it without him by his side?

“You know, Merlin, all those jokes about you being a coward… I never really meant any of them. I always thought you were the bravest man I ever met.” There, he had said it. And it was so true! He really admired Merlin’s bravery. Only he felt betrayed now. By Merlin, of all people. “Guess I was wrong,” he added, turning his back on Merlin, avoiding the tears forming on his servant’s eyes.

Arthur knew it was cruel of him. He did not truly believe Merlin was backing away out of cowardice, but what else could there be? What wasn’t he telling Arthur? What could be more important than supporting his King? Certainly not some ‘supplies’, as he had claimed.

Deep down, Arthur expected Merlin to change his mind any moment. He was sure his servant would show up with his disarming smile, acting like he had never meant to leave, how fool of Arthur to believe that! All the while he prepared his horse for the journey, he kept looking out at the crowded Main Square hoping to find the familiar mop of dark hair, but Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

Arthur turned his neck at hearing someone calling his name, his heart filling with hope, but found Guinevere walking towards him instead, wearing her riding clothes, warm gloves, and cape. She announced she was joining him on the ride to the battlefield and no amount of reasoning would convince her otherwise.

“Arthur, if these are to be your last days, I would far rather spend them together then sit waiting for a man that I might never see again.”

Arthur knew her to be honest, yet he understood very well what she was doing. She was offering her company in Merlin’s place, so that he would not feel all alone. Arthur smiled at her with gratitude and offered her his hand. He looked down at her sweet smile as she held it with both of hers.

Arthur’s gratitude was honest, but he wished it was that simple. For more that her intentions were good, it did not feel right, as he led his men to the battlefield. Something was missing. Or, better yet, someone. Someone who should never had left him bereft in a moment as delicate such as this. Someone without whom Arthur did not feel whole.

Arthur started to wonder what he had done to deserve this. So many times he thought he had lost Merlin for good and somehow Merlin had always forgiven him even if Arthur rarely - if ever - apologized for his misdeeds. What could he possibly have done for Merlin to abandon him now?

Arthur did not realize he was brooding until Percival came back with Leon’s message that they had underestimated their enemy’s forces. Apparently, the numbers were five to one against them. Arthur’s face hardened some more and he forced himself to get over his own feelings and start acting like the lider he was to this people.

He could only hold it in for so long, though, and he confronted Gaius about those so called ‘vital supplies’ later, but the man was adamant that it was for the greater good that Merlin had stayed behind.

They reached Camlann the next morning and it felt like the death trap it actually was. Arthur ordered his men to set camp and prepare and he busied himself with the manual labor for a while. When his tent was set, he dove into his planning again, until Guinevere interrupted his musings, leaning against a pole.

“What is it?” she asked, having seen right through him.

Arthur sighed, joining his hands. “What if Sir Leon was right? Perhaps we should've made our stand at Camelot.”

Guinevere moved towards the table he was resting his elbows at and placed her hands on it. “Your plan is brave and bold, and our only chance of defeating Morgana once and for all. Yes, we could have held out at the Citadel, but for how long? And at what cost to the Kingdom? I have never for a moment doubted the valor and wisdom of this choice.”

Arthur smiled at her, hearing sense in her words. It wasn’t that he did not trust her advice. He had learned to respect her opinion and even depend on it at times, but she should not have to be here, and yet she had come. She seemed determined to take Arthur’s mind off of Merlin’s absence and she had made sure to do his manservant’s job as a whole, even in what came to boosting up his confidence.

Arthur stood up and walked around the table towards his wife. “If you do not doubt me, Guinevere, then I do not doubt myself,” he assured her, taking her hands. “That gives me a strength greater than any weapon.”

Guinevere leaned in to kiss his cheek and envelope him in a loving embrace. Arthur took in her familiar smell, committing it to his mind.

“Come,” Guinevere said as she let go of him. “We must rest while we can.”

Arthur swept her up in his arms easily, making her giggle as she wrapped her arms around his shoulder. Arthur smiled back at her, trying to make her understand how much he cherished her as he carried her to their bed.

Arthur tried, he honestly tried to get in the mood to make love to her. If he were to die tonight, it would be best if he at least tried to leave her with child, but in the end he could not bring himself to do it.

“I’m sorry, Guinevere,” Arthur said, laying over his back and putting an arm over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m such a horrible husband.”

Guinevere sighed, but reached over to caress his cheek. “Maybe you really are a horrible husband, but you’re a great man and I’d rather have you as my spouse than any other man who would easily lie and deceive me. You just can’t not to be true to yourself. I admire your honesty and I appreciate it that you trust me with it.”

Arthur groaned, moving away from her and sitting up at the border of the mattress. He put his elbows on his thighs, hiding his face in his open hands.

He heard Guinevere shifting behind him in the bed. Before she opened her mouth, Arthur somehow knew she was going to bring up what he wanted to avoid the most. He resigned himself to allow her to speak her mind, though. It was the least he could do.

“You know, when Merlin first came to Camelot, I took an interest on him,” she confessed, making Arthur turn around to look at her, frowning. “He was just so pure, so innocent. He always had a smile and a kind word to offer. And he was a servant, just like me. I thought he was the kind of man I could spend my life with, the best I could ever ask for. Only he never had eyes for me.”

Arthur turned away again, facing the floor. He did not know what to think of all that.

“He only had eyes for you, Arthur,” she completed.

Arthur huffed. “He hated me, at first. I fought him with the mace and then I made him spend the night in the dungeon the second time we met.” Arthur could not stop a fond smile at the memory.

“Yes, but he soon got to know you better and he saw what was behind that bully front. He saw you for what you were, for what you could become. And he believed in you. He’s probably the reason you came all this way until now. You became a great King just like he believed you to be because you could not bear to disappoint him.”

“Guinevere-” Arthur tried to reason with her, but she moved to knee in the bed, leaning closer to him.

“Arthur, you don’t need to pretend with me. I know you wished it was him here, instead of me.”

Arthur frowned at her. “You talk as if I…”  _ As if I was in love with him _ , Arthur thought, but he found that he could not put it into words. It was absurd. He could not  _ love _ another man, not like this. “He’s my friend,” he said, instead. “I care for him as a close friend.”

Guinevere sent him a disbelieving look. “Leon is your close friend. As are Gwaine and Percival. As was Elyan as well.” She squinted at him. “Tell me, why haven’t you knighted Merlin as you have them?”

Arthur snorted. “Because he’s useless with a sword?”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Still, you know I only knight the best swordsmen. I have a reputation to keep.” Arthur knew he was sounding defensive, but he remembered Elyan saying something about it either and he did not like what they were implying at.

“You could have teached him, like you taught Mordred.”

“Gwen-” Arthur turned away again, feeling uncomfortable at the mention. He did not want to have this conversation and something was telling him to flee, but Guinevere didn’t allow him the scape, reaching for his hands and forcing him to look back at her, as if determined that he faced it for once.

“You know it’s true. You’ve made a point of training your men yourself, and yet you never really tried with Merlin. You only made sure he could defend himself with a sword, because you wanted to be there to save him yourself! You’ve knighted peasants, farmers and troublemakers. You gave them titles. You made  _ me _ , a mere maid, your Queen. You made a point of treating everyone as your equal, and yet you kept Merlin, your most loyal subject, as your servant because you cannot bear to leave him out of your sight! You kept him right where you wanted him, tending for your business alone-”

“That’s not true. I also allow him to assist Gaius! He would be here if it wasn’t for that!” Arthur jumped at the opportunity to contest at least some of her arguments, even if he knew it to be beside the point.

Guinevere’s mouth tightened in a fierce line. “He could be a physician himself, after all these years as Gaius assistant. Why haven’t you named him Second Court Physician then?”

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. The thought had not even crossed his mind before. Merlin did not have the time to be a full time physician.

Guinevere pressed on mercilessly, ignoring Arthur’s inner turmoil. “Do you still deny you’ve deliberately avoided setting him free of his duties as your manservant?”

Arthur averted his eyes, finding that he could not deny it, even if it did not feel like he had done it deliberately. Perhaps he had not realized it until now, but it didn’t make it less true.

Guinevere must have finally had pity on him, for her tone softened as she continued. “I’ll be lying if I say I don’t resent the way you favor him over me, but I also happen to know he’s the best that could ever have happened to you. Whatever he’s doing out there right now, I simply know it has something to do with you and deep down you know it too.”

“If that’s so, why isn’t he here, where I need him most?” Arthur had not intended for his words to be so angry, but there was no taking them back now.

“I believe we’ll learn soon enough,” Guinevere said and tugged at his hand softly. “Come now, you really must get some rest. You have a long evening ahead of you.”

Arthur allowed to be pulled back to the mattress and placed an arm around her when she cuddled to his side. He thought he was going to have trouble sleeping, but he was off in no time.

.Merlin.

He heard Merlin in his sleep. Not something fuzzy and foolish like his dreams often were. Merlin’s voice was loud and clear in his head, as if Merlin had said them into his ear. “Arthur, I'm sorry I had to leave you,” he said like he meant it. “I didn't want to. I hope one day you'll understand why. Your plan is a good one and you may yet save this Kingdom, but you must beware.” His voice became stronger, with a touch of command to it Arthur would have found impertinent and amusing any other day. “Your army's flank is vulnerable. There's an old path over the ridge of Camlann, and Morgana knows of it. She means to trap you, Arthur. Find the path or the battle will be over before it's begun. _ Find the path _ !”

Arthur woke up with the words echoing inside his head. He blinked to dissipate the turmoil of things happening at once inside of him. His chest was tight with longing; his muscles twitched, ready for the action; his heart was racing from the urgency to  _ move already _ ; but there was still the heavy weight of Guinevere at his side, keeping him from sitting up.

“What’s the matter?” Guinevere asked, startled from his sudden movement.

“Merlin,” Arthur said by way of explanation.

“It was a dream Arthur,” she tried to comfort him. “Just a dream.”

Arthur shook his head. “Didn't feel like a dream. It felt…” He trailed off, remembering Merlin’s words as clear as if he had stared into Merlin’s face as he spoke them.

It felt real. It felt like a warning Merlin would move Heaven and Earth to give him.

Arthur threw the covers away and got up. He started to bark commands to his men, calling Percival and Gwaine and telling them to lead the defence to the hidden path at their rear. Fortunately, they did not question his orders and moved to comply with no hesitation. Arthur walked past them to get himself ready, trying not to question his own actions and simply follow his heart.

.oOo.

There was nothing new for him in battles. Sure, the saxons were many more, but Camelot’s strategy was assertive. Arthur chose not to dwell upon their chances. Even if they were to be defeated, it would not stop him to fight until his last breath.

And so he lead his men forward, facing enemy after enemy with fierceness. He heard the screams of fight and fright at his side, but he was determined not to allow anything to distract him from their enemy. All his life had led him to this moment, all his training was being put to test. What good it was to him to be recognized as the finest of warriors if not for this?

He had almost forgotten about Morgana and her magic when the white dragon appeared, screeching. Like a bird of prey, the creature swooped down, breathing fire upon friend and foe alike. Arthur ducked away, but the fire did not reach him and he took advantage of the saxons’ fright to run his sword throw as many as he could before they recovered from it.

So far he had managed to keep going relatively unscrathed, although his body was beginning to protest the exertion. He knew the more tired he got, the more susceptible he was to be defeated, so he had to make the best of his strength now. He saw a line of saxons charging at him and prepared to fight them all at once when a sudden bright light struck and knocked every single one of them down. Arthur did not have the time to think about what just happened, for there was another group of men striking at his back. He only had the time to prepare his blow when another lightning struck on them, sending them flying backwards.

Now completely dumbfounded, Arthur looked around, searching for a reasonable explanation for what just transpired. His eyes caught some movement at the top of the cliff and he found a man in a red tunic there, holding a staff. There was a halo of white hair around his face and there was something familiar in the way he stood, looking down straight at Arthur. As Arthur watched him, the old man lifted his staff and lightning thundered down, striking another group of saxons close by, leaving nothing but a sea of dead men around him.

Arthur heard Morgana’s enraged cry out, but could not make out what she said before the sorcerer sent her tumbling down, where she stayed unoving. He lifted his staff again and again, defeating Arthur’s opponents before they had the chance to reach him.

Arthur was still trying to understand what was happening when he heard the dragon’s looming screeches again. As soon as the sorcerer sighted it, he started to speak in a powerful commanding voice, a language Arthur was not familiar with. It caused the hair on his arms and legs to stand on its ends, and to his complete astonishment, the dragon halted in the middle of a dive and retreated, cowering. Arthur’s eyes moved back to the sorcerer at his own accord again.

The power he yielded seemed too great for someone so frail looking. Different from Morgana’s dragon, his lightnings did not kill everyone at their wake, only Arthur’s enemies. Arthur could not fathom why, though. Why was this old sorcerer coming to his aid now?

_ “There is no evil in sorcery,” _ Arthur remembered the Dolma’s words,  _ “only in the hearts of men.” _

Arthur looked around again and found that they could win this battle, after all. As he urged his men to keep on fighting, he found an agonizing Knight in the midst of the bodies covering the ground. He reached for the dying warrior and watched as life slipped out of him, feeling powerless before his own incapacity to do more than bring comfort to his passing.

Arthur knew every one of those red-caped men lying lifelessly on the ground by name and he mourned them greatly. Another given thing in battle was that good people died, and those men had died for him, for their King, for Camelot, the Kingdom Arthur had sworn to protect. It felt dishonest that he was still breathing when they were no more.

Arthur was so engrossed on his own mourning, he nearly did not hear the footsteps behind him, but turned in time to clash his sword with the furtive saxon before the man had the chance to strike him so cowardly. Arthur was ready to run him through his sword when he recognized Mordred and froze. His mind was telling him to have no mercy, but his heart kept saying this was not his enemy. This was Mordred, his Knight, the boy Arthur had cared for a if he was his child. The boy Arthur had failed when he needed him the most.

It was Arthur’s fault they were facing each other in battle. This war would not have happened if Arthur hadn’t failed to see the change in Morgana until it was too late, failed to try and reach her, show his support. Mordred would not be at her side if Arthur hadn’t been too hard on him, despite him being just a lovestruck boy caring for his loved one.

Arthur could not bring himself to move, to strike, to treat him as his rival.

Mordred, though, had no such qualms and took advantage of Arthur’s hesitation to stab him with his sword. The blade went through Arthur like a hot knife through butter and it burned with a sharp pain.

_ Wrong _ , Arthur thought, fighting the urge to reprimand his Knight out of habit. Arthur had been the one to teach Mordred how to kill his opponents, mapping out organs and pointing the places that granted a quick and efficient death. Mordred had just missed it.

When the former Knight withdrew the blade, the pain got even worse, making Arthur gasp, and it spread through his side when Arthur breathed. Arthur fell to his knees, weakened by the wound and the treason. Suddenly, his sword seemed too heavy for him to lift and it nearly slipped from his grasp.

“You gave me no choice,” Arthur heard Mordred say.

And with this he took away Arthur’s choice as well. He had become Arthur’s enemy, after all, ending his inner turmoil. Arthur found strength inside of him for one more strike and he surged to his feet, using the movement to thrust his sword right through Mordred’s guts, grabbing hold of him to keep himself standing.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Mordred’s, he shoved the sword some more until their faces were nearly touching, as if they were on a caring embrace.  _ This is how it’s done _ , he thought.  _ You should have paid better attention. _

Arthur withdrew his sword then, and for a moment he did not know who was leaning into whom. Mordred offered him a weak smile and it looked strange on his face, forced, as if he had unlearned how to do it, as if he had never really learned how to smile. And just like this, he collapsed on the floor, leaving Arthur on his own unsteady feet.

Arthur looked down on Mordred, watching his body go lifeless and feeling no satisfaction in it whatsoever. He covered his wound with his gloved hand and tried not to fall apart on the outside as much as he was on the inside, but his legs soon gave out as he tried to move away to find some help. The wound might not have granted him an instant kill, but it could be fatal all the same if he did not manage to stop the internal bleeding soon enough. He probably should not move around too much and pray for help to come soon.

He crawled to the nearby wall and managed to sit on a rock, waiting for someone to show up. He knew his men would not rest until they found him, dead or alive. His last thoughts were to his loved ones and he chased away the voice saying this would not have happened if Merlin had been here with him.

Merlin would not have hesitated to kill Mordred. Merlin would not have allowed him to harm his King.  Arthur should be grateful that Merlin wasn't there, for he would probably do something stupid like take Arthur's place in front of Mordred's sword. Wherever he was, he was probably safer than here, but Arthur was a selfish, selfish man. All he could think about was that  he wouldn't feel so lonely and scared now, had Merlin been here by his side. And, God, he  _ was  _ lonely and scared as never before.

When he finally lost his conscious, it was a blessing.

.Merlin.

Arthur woke up with a sharp intake of breath, which sent another wave of pain though his body. He felt the smell of the forest and the heat of the fire before he listened to the logs crackling, as well as the crickets chirping. He was lying on the grass, his upper body propped up on a rock. Someone should have carried him away from the battlefield.

Someone who was crouching a few feets nearby, facing away from him.

Arthur felt relieved at recognizing his servant’s profile, suddenly grateful to have lived long enough to see him one more time. “Merlin,” Arthur called, making him turn around.

Merlin got to his feet as soon as he realized Arthur was awake. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he approached.

Arthur tried to move to a sitting position, but it felt like he was being stabbed all over again. He cried out, holding on to Merlin’s shoulder as his muscles throbbed painfully.

“Lie back,” Merlin said, holding him still with one arm as the other cradled Arthur’s hand on his shoulder. “Lie back.”

Arthur groaned as he obeyed. “Where have you been?” he asked, struggling for breath.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Merlin said, but Arthur barely heard him.

“Ah, my- My side,” Arthur complained.

“You’re bleeding,” Merlin stated after inspecting his wound.

Arthur was still trying to catch his breath. “That’s alright. I thought I was dying.”

“I'm sorry,” Merlin said, looking at him as he kept cradling Arthur’s wrist. His eyes begun to shine with fresh tears. “I thought I'd defied the prophecy. I thought I was in time.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Merlin looked away, seeming troubled. “I defeated the saxons. The dragon.”

Arthur frowned at him, wondering if Merlin was talking gibberish or if it was he himself who was delirious. He did not feel feverish.

“And yet… And yet I knew it was Mordred that I must stop,” Merlin concluded, looking aggravated.

Arthur smiled and patted Merlin on the shoulder. “The person who defeated them was the sorcerer,” he said, trying not to hurt Merlin’s feelings. Whatever he was on about, he clearly was taking it too serious.

To Arthur’s complete astonishment, though, Merlin begun to cry openly. “It was me,” he said, gripping Arthur’s wrist tighter, almost painfully, as he sobbed.

Arthur’s smile faded and he frowned again, suddenly confused by Merlin’s intense reaction. He shook his head. “Don't be ridiculous, Merlin.” He watched Merlin cry still, looking down at him with clear suffering in his honest eyes, as if he was the one mortally wounded. “This is stupid, why would you say that?”

“I'm a-” Merlin begun, but had to stop, trying to calm down his own sobbs and Arthur watched him dumbfounded. Merlin pointed to himself. “I'm a sorcerer,” he said, and Arthur’s eyebrows shot up at the unexpected word. “I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.”

“Merlin, you are not a sorcerer,” Arthur said, trying to call him back to sanity. “I would know!”

Merlin let go of Arthur’s hand and seemed to finally calm down enough to look like himself again. “Look,” he said, his eyes fixed on Arthur, as if trying to convince him of how serious he was about this. “Here,” he said and turned his head toward the fire, raising his hand as if trying to reach it, despite it being too far.

Arthur lifted his head, unsure of what to expect. He heard Merlin mutter something in a language he did not recognize and then…

And then the most strange thing happened. A shape formed above the flames, made of shining ember. A flying bird - no a  _ dragon _ . It vanished as quickly as it had formed, as Merlin lowered his hand and looked back at him with clear expectancy. As if… As if he had done it himself.

As if it were an incantation.

Magic.

Arthur could not look Merlin in the eyes. He exhaled, grunting, looking away, searching for his sword, searching for someone. Someone other than the person crouching over him, this stranger, this  _ sorcerer _ .

He found none.

Arthur looked back at Merlin, at his hand on Arthur’s chest and suddenly he felt… scared. He was at Merlin’s mercy, alone in the woods. And, if he understood it correctly, Merlin was trying to tell him he and the sorcerer who had brought down lightning from the skies were one and the same. The same sorcerer who had killed his father.

An old man. That man was too old, how could this be?

How could Merlin use magic?

How could he do this to him? Merlin,  _ his _ Merlin! Haven’t Arthur been betrayed enough already? Not this, please, he could not deal with this now.

“Leave me,” Arthur asked and watched Merlin lean back as if burned.

“Arthur-”

“Don’t- Just- You heard,” Arthur stuttered. “Just…” He moved his arm away from Merlin and cringed, trying to put some distance between them. The movement caused him to grunt in pain again and for the first time Arthur wished to die.

He did not want to deal with this. He could not. He had survived every betrayal, recovered from every heartbreak taking solace in Merlin’s loyalty. And all this time, Merlin had been lying to him, deceiving him, making a fool of him. Arthur wished he had died unknowing. He could not take this any more.

.oOo.

Merlin never moved too far. He kept his distance, but Arthur could hear the rustling of leaves above the cracking of the fire when he moved. Arthur kept aware of every one of his moves, weary of any sudden movement.

Meanwhile, Arthur’s thoughts kept going in circles. He pitied himself. He mourned the loss of his most dear friend. He cursed Merlin for doing it. He blamed himself for trusting too deep and putting his heart at others hand so easily. He felt bereft and anguished, which lead him to pity himself again.

He did not sleep a wink, but he ended up convincing himself Merlin would already have done something to harm him by now, if that was his intention. Arthur was unarmed and terribly hurt, he was completely defenceless against any kind of attempt on his life, let alone a sorcerer’s attack. At some point, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

He heard Merlin approaching and nearly gave himself away by flinching when Merlin surveyed his wound. Arthur heard him sniff and could almost picture him crying, and he experienced some consternation for his former friend, but it soon washed away when he remembered how Merlin had mislead him all those years, tricking him into thinking he was his most loyal friend, going to the extent of keeping a farse for over a decade!

Still, how could Merlin be the old sorcerer? Well, sure, now that Arthur stopped to think about it, Morgana had disguised herself as an old lady before, and if Merlin’s magic had been strong enough to defeat her...

Yet, how could Merlin be two different people at the same time? Hadn’t he come with Arthur to the old man’s hut the first time? Yes, he had!

Although he had stayed outside to pee. And he never walked inside. In fact, Arthur had never seen both at a time, now that he thought about it.

What if Merlin could hear Arthur’s thoughts, though? Hadn't he talked to Arthur in his dream using magic? Who was to say he was not aware Arthur was faking it and laughing at his expense?

The night turned into day and Merlin never left Arthur’s side. Arthur could hear him sob and sniff and mutter some unintelligible things to himself as the fire continued burning. If he was having a laugh at Arthur, he surely knew how to keep an act. At some point, Arthur thought he felt Merlin’s hand on his hair and felt his breath close to his face, but nothing else happened.

Just when Arthur was getting too stiff from pretending, he heard someone approach them. He tensed up, wondering if it was Morgana. What if Merlin had sold him out?

He ignored the voice telling him how little sense it would make, given that Merlin had just won a battle against Morgana for him, even if Arthur still could not wrap his head around it.

Arthur relaxed again when he recognized Gaius’ voice as they exchanged a few words. He heard footsteps approaching him. “The hills are crawling with saxons,” Gaius said in answer to something Merlin had asked.

“There's no yarrow, no lady's mantle,” Merlin sounded disapproving.

Arthur felt Gaius’ hand on his forehead. “I’ve got confrey,” he said.

“You should've got sticklewort,” Merlin chastised, as if he was the expert on healing, not the other way around. “There must've been sticklewort.”

Arthur had never witnessed Merlin using such a tone at Gaius. He wondered if Merlin had always been this disrespectful and Arthur had failed to notice.

“Merlin, why don't you water the horses,” Gaius suggested, sounding unfazed. “And make sure they're fed, we can't hide here for much longer.”

Arthur waited for Merlin’s crossed reply, but it never came and he heard Merlin’s footsteps as he left. Arthur cracked his eyes open to make sure he was gone before grabbing Gaius’ leg. “He’s a sorcerer,” Arthur warned and waited for Gaius’ indignant reaction.

Gaius merely looked down at him, showing no change in his features, no surprise.

“You knew,” Arthur stated, letting go of him. Another betrayal.

When he thought things couldn't get any worse…

“Arthur,” Gaius said, moving closer to him as if to tell him a secret, “he’s your friend.”

“I want him gone,” Arthur stated. Merlin could not be both a sorcerer and his friend, Gaius should know it.

“There is no need to fear him.”

Arthur ignored him, looking away. “Have him take word to Camelot. To Guinevere.”

“You cannot send Merlin. I will go-”

“I need a physician right now, not a sorcerer.”

“He can do far more than me, far more than you can ever imagine,” Gaius insisted. “Arthur, he doesn't just have magic.”

Arthur tuned back at him at that, giving him his full attention. What could he possibly mean by that?

“There are those who say he's the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the Earth,” Gaius concluded.

Arthur stared at him for a moment, disbelieving. “ _ Merlin _ ?” He asked, just to make sure they were talking about the same person.

“If you are to stand any chance of survival, you'll need Merlin to help you, not me.”

Arthur turned away again, feeling helpless. How could he trust Merlin with his life again?

The greatest sorcerer to ever walk the Earth. It did not sound right. If Arthur had not know Gaius since forever, he would suspect the physician to be mocking him. How could Merlin be so powerful? Merlin, who tripped over Arthur’s chamber pot? Merlin, who daily cleaned his rooms, polished his armor and laundered his clothes? Merlin, who had been in the stocks too many times to count? Who had once slept on the stable floor, pillowing his head on horse muck?

Merlin, the greatest sorcerer to ever live?

This was surreal. Arthur would never have believed it if he had not seen it with his own eyes. Magic. The flames obeying Merlin’s command at the mere raise of a hand.

And yet…

Hadn’t the old sorcerer killed thousands in the battlefield with nothing but his will and a piece of wood? Hadn’t he sent Morgana tumbling unconscious in the ground with the barest of efforts? Hadn’t he commanded a dragon to back off? Hadn’t he been in the castle the night Arthur had been poisoned to an inch of his life - and miraculously cured, despite being accounted dead already?

What if it really had been beyond Gaius’ skills to counteract the poison? What if Merlin really was more powerful than average? What if he was Arthur’s only salvation?

Suddenly, it made sense that Gaius would vouch for the old sorcerer’s integrity. He had known it all along. Hadn’t he claimed the old man had tried his best to save King Uther? Only it turned out to not be enough; his father had been beyond saving, Gaius had said.

_ “I have magic,” _ Arthur remembered Merlin’s words, and he had sounded like he was confessing to have an incurable disease. As if it was an unavoidable condition, something he did not ask for.  _ “And I use it for you. Only for you.” _

Gaius asked permission to examine him and then prodded at his wound, sending stabs of pain though his side until Arthur could take no more of it. The physician had a grim expression when he concluded that Arthur still had a piece of Mordred’s sword inside of him and it was moving dangerously close to his heart.

As Arthur recovered from the inspection, Gaius talked about dragon forged blades and ancient powers and an island called Avalon. Merlin should take him there safely, where some magic creature would cure him.

_ What’s the point in curing me _ ? Arthur thought to himself. He was not sure he wanted to survive this. What would he do then? He was not confident Guinevere would want him back after all that had happened, after he had apparently turned her down for Merlin. How could he rule a Kingdom he would not have been able to save if not for the help of sorcery? How would he deal with Merlin’s transgression of the law? How could his laws be respected after all that had happened? He was a failure as a husband and as a King. Maybe he deserved to be betrayed over and over again.

“Sire?” Gaius asked, making him focus on the physician again. “Would you allow Merlin to take you there?”

Arthur sighed. What choice did he have short of ending his own life? “Yes.”

He closed his eyes and tried to get some rest before the journey.

.Merlin.

“Arthur?” Merlin called tentatively as he walked to him near sunset.

Arthur did not look him in the eye, only moving his head to let him know he was listening.

“We need to leave at first light,” Merlin said.

“I'll decide,” Arthur said detachedly.

Merlin’s voice sounded raw with emotion when he spoke again. “I can't let you die.”

Arthur looked up at Merlin's face, finding his eyes red and glistening with fresh tears. He looked honestly regretful and the sight should have moved him, but how could Arthur be sure it was not all an act? He had lost his trust on Merlin now, there was no walking around it.

Arthur looked away, closing his eyes. “It doesn't change anything,” he stated with finalty.

“Let him sleep,” came Gaius’s voice from nearby, but Arthur did not open his eyes.

They exchanged another few words, but Arthur could not make out what they said, lost in his own thoughts.

.Merlin.

Arthur did not get much sleep that night either. When the morning came and Merlin helped him climb to his horse, Arthur nearly passed out from the pain caused by the effort and the movement. He trusted Gaius with the Royal Seal, instructing him to give it to Guinevere. She would be a good regent, probably better than Arthur ever was.

Arthur watched over his shoulder when Gaius and Merlin said their goodbyes, noticing the open affection and worry on the physician’s voice. It was clear Gaius cared for his assistant like a son and for a moment Arthur felt jealous of their embrace, until he reminded himself of Merlin’s betrayal again and it was like opening a recent wound.

Apparently, he still felt strongly towards his servant, despite all that had happened. He wished he could talk himself out of his own feelings, for it only caused the betrayal to hurt more.

The ride was quiet, slow and uncomfortable. Arthur was unable to stand with his back straight, and kept hunched over the horseback, fresh blood constantly running down his saddle. He could barely see where they were heading, but he risked a glance at Merlin once in awhile, finding him frowning with concentration as he surveyed their surroundings.

As they left the cover of the forest to cross an open plain, they were soon spotted.

“Saxons,” Merlin declared urgently as he dismounted.

“I’ll deal with them,” Arthur said, although his muscles refused to obey his command when he tried to move.

Before he knew it, Merlin was throwing a blanket over Arthur’s body to cover his armor.

“Keep your head down,” Merlin commanded, ignoring his previous statement. “Don't speak.”

Arthur found himself without strength to protest. He grabbed the edges of the blanket and pulled it around his face.

“Help us!” he heard Merlin shout and lifted his head to see two men on horseback approaching. “Please, you have to help us,” Merlin sounded anguished as the men dismounted. “We were ambushed.”

“By who?” one of the saxons asked, while the other kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it out.

“These… two men,” Merlin continued with his act.

“What did they look like?”

“Um…” Merlin scratched his head, looking over his shoulder towards Arthur. “One was… a Knight.” He looked back, pointing to somewhere in the woods they had just left. “They stormed our camp.”

When the two men turned their backs to look at where Merlin had pointed - there was smoke coming from the trees where Arthur was sure there had been nothing before - Merlin took the chance to hide the hilt of Arthur’s sword, which had been at plain sight.

“You're sure it was a Camelot Knight?” Arthur heard the saxon ask and made sure to keep his face hidden.

“Yeah,” came Merlin’s reply.

There was a moment of silence before the blanket was pulled from around him. Arthur looked up when he heard two swords being drawn, fully aware that his reflexes were too slow for him to reach for his own weapon. Before he could move to grab it, though, Merlin extended his hands and the two men flew back in a wide arch, screaming.

They stayed in the ground, unmoving, as Merlin lowered his hands. He had not even broken a sweat, nor said a single word and he had defeated two armed men.

“You've lied to me all this time,” Arthur stated, feeling affronted by yet another proof of the extent to which he had been fooled.

All this time, Arthur thought Merlin was defenseless, vulnerable, and all along Merlin had been capable of killing with barely a thought. How many times had he used his magic like this? Right under Arthur’s nose?

Merlin did not say a word as he walked back to his horse and mounted it. They continued moving forward as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

.oOo.

Merlin set camp when it became too dark for them to ride. He helped Arthur step down from the horse and lie under a tree before moving to set a fire. At first, Arthur was too pained to realize what was happening around him, but he soon noticed Merlin was trying to light the fire with his flints and sighing as he failed over and over again.

“Why don't you use magic?” Arthur asked, genuinely curious.

Merlin stopped, as if he had not been aware of what he was doing until now. “Habit, I suppose,” he said and turned around to look at his master questioningly, like he used to do when asking for Arthur’s permission to do something.

Another habit, perhaps. Arthur nodded for him to go ahead and watched as Merlin started a fire just by looking at the cold sticks.

“Feels strange,” Merlin confessed, keeping his eyes down at the flames.

“Yeah,” Arthur had to agree.

Merlin got up and moved to pick up a blanket.

“I thought I knew you,” Arthur commented, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

Merlin looked at him for a moment before starting to unfold the blanket. “I'm still the same person.”

“I trusted you,” Arthur said accusingly and it felt like an understatement. He had given Merlin all of him, not only his trust. Arthur had taken in his advices on how to rule his own Kingdom. He had shared the most intimate moments with him. He had given Merlin his heart and Merlin had broken it, shattered it. Arthur had believed himself to know what heartbreak felt like, but he had been wrong. This was worse than whatever disappointment he had experienced before.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, looking into his eyes.

“I'm sorry too.”

Arthur watched when Merlin silently walked up to him and reached for Arthur’s booted feet. “What are you doing?” he asked, although it was clear Merlin was taking his boots off, like he had done countless times before.

“They need drying,” Merlin said with the slightest hint of sarcasm, the corner of his lips threatening to pull up before he set the boots by the fire and walked away again.

Arthur looked from the boots to the man with a frown. It felt like he was in constant wait now. He was watching Merlin, waiting for the moment he would let the mask slip, drop the pretense of the dedicated manservant and reveal his true selfish intentions, but it was taking too long and Arthur was starting to allow doubt to creep in.

.oOo.

Arthur woke up to Merlin preparing their breakfast. His movements were almost soothing to watch, the familiarity of it making Arthur feel at home for the briefest of moments. He could almost pretend nothing had happened. He could almost pretend that Merlin was the same clumsy dork Arthur came to care for. Perhaps not the best servant he could have had, but the most caring and loving person Arthur had ever known.

Only he had magic and he had hidden it from Arthur all this time. And, if Gaius’ words were to be taken in consideration, was the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the Earth.

Arthur sighed and Merlin looked up at him, catching his eyes.

“I’m almost done here,” Merlin said and took the pan from the fire, placing it’s content on a bowl to let it cool down a bit. He crouched next to Arthur then and supported his head with one hand while bringing the spoon to Arthur’s closed lips with the other. “This will be good for you,” Merlin insisted, but Arthur did not move a muscle. “You need to eat-”

“Why are you doing this?” Arthur asked, looking at him, watching as he placed the spoon back in the bowl. “Why are you still behaving like a servant?”

Merlin set the bowl down, as if giving up. When he looked back at Arthur, he had a soft smile on his face. “It's my destiny. As it has been since the day we met.”

Arthur nearly smiled at the memories those words evoked. “I tried to take your head off with a mace.”

“And I stopped you, using magic,” Merlin sounded amused too, as if he was mocking Arthur for being so hopelessly obtuse. How could he not have guessed it?

Arthur’s smile faded as he looked up to Merlin with open disbelief. “You cheated!”

Merlin chuckled. “Yeah! You were going to kill me.”

“I should've.” Arthur looked away.

Merlin was quiet for a moment. When he next spoke, he was serious again. “I'm glad you didn't.”

Arthur huffed, trying to cover up his hurting with bitterness.

Merlin leaned over to speak closer to him, as if intending on telling him a secret. “I do this because of who you are,” he answered Arthur’s previous question. “Without you, Camelot's nothing.”

Arthur’s eyes unfocused for a moment as he sighed. “There was a time when that was true. Not now. There are many who can fill the crown.”

“There will never be another like you, Arthur.”

Arthur smiled at the soft spoken words, feeling nostalgic. And then it came back to him just how many times he had heard this kind of praising from Merlin. He had always believed in Arthur’s potential, always with words of undivided faith when Arthur was starting to lose his own. He had always said something about destiny in his speeches, now that Arthur thought about it, as if he had somehow seen the future himself - and maybe he had. Arthur would probably never know the extent of his powers.

“Now, I also do this,” Merlin said as he reached for the bowl again and set it on his knees, supporting Arthur’s head up again, “because you're my friend and I don't want to lose you.”

This time, Arthur took a spoonful of the soup when Merlin placed it in front of his lips. He ate as much as he could like an obedient child, although the effort left him a little breathless. Merlin looked proud of him when he was finished and Arthur looked away, feeling his chest warm up like he thought he would never feel again.

As they pressed on with their journey, Arthur felt more and more tired. He nearly dozed off on the horseback and Merlin must have taken pity on him, for he made a stop, sitting Arthur on a fallen tree trunk. The effort to move left Arthur even more weakened and he dozed off in the brief moments Merlin took to fetch the waterskin from his saddlebag. He would probably have stumbled down if not for Merlin holding him up with an arm hooked under Arthur’s armpit.

“One more day,” Merlin said as he wiped the sweat from Arthur’s forehead with a cloth. “One more day,” he repeated, as if needing the reassurance himself.

“Why did you never tell me?” Arthur asked somewhat distantly. He realized how gentle the question had come out, but Merlin would probably blame it on his exhaustion.

“I wanted to, but…”

“What?” Arthur pressed when Merlin did not finish his sentence.

“You'd have chopped my head off.” Merlin’s attempt on humor sounded forced.

Would he, though?

Merlin held the waterskin for Arthur to drink and Arthur took a large gulp of it, taking the time to think this through.

Would he be capable of sentencing Merlin to death, had he known it beforehand? Magic was against the law, and even if it had not caused any harm, it’s mere use within the realm’s borders was punishable with death. The law was paramount. Arthur had not bent it after Mordred’s petition for his loved one, would he bend it to spare Merlin’s life?

“I'm not sure what I would've done,” Arthur confessed at last.

“And I didn't want to put you in that position.”

Arthur looked at Merlin, incredulous and perhaps a bit marveled at the answer. “That's what worried you?”

It sounded so much like something Merlin would worry about. His Merlin, the one Arthur thought he knew like the back of his hand.

Merlin’s eyes looked distant for a moment as Arthur’s kept drifting down to his lips. “Some men are born to plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others…” Merlin locked eyes with him again, “to be great Kings. Me? I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I'm proud of that. And I wouldn't change a thing.”

Arthur found honesty in Merlin’s eyes, but perhaps he was only seeing what he wished to see. God knew how much he wanted to believe in Merlin right now.

Perhaps he had been wrong. About Merlin, about magic, about his own feelings. Perhaps Merlin had been as honest with Arthur as he believed safe to be. Surely, magic was no small part of who Merlin was, but it did not invalidate all that Arthur had known before. It did not turn him into a complete stranger. It did not make him ill-intentioned. Arthur had known Merlin, just not all of him. And perhaps he would never learn all there was to be learned, yet he was starting to suspect Merlin was the same dedicated servant as ever.

Or better yet, not the same. He was probably even more devoted and self-sacrificing than Arthur had suspected him to be. He had given up his own power to live in Arthur’s shadow. And he kept choosing Arthur over and over again, despite Arthur having chosen someone else.

“Ready?” Merlin asked, bringing him back from his thoughts.

Arthur nodded and Merlin helped sustaining him as he stood, allowing Arthur to lean most of his weight on him. Just like Arthur had done his entire life, using Merlin as his support. Arthur had always trusted Merlin to hold his weight and Merlin had never failed to keep him up, despite how unfairly Arthur had treated him.

“ _ You kept him right where you wanted him, tending for your business alone _ ,” Guinevere’s words came back to him and Arthur had never felt more self-conscious of how he made sure to keep Merlin as his subaltern, always under his command, always at his reach, at the distance of a shout. He had only dared crowning Merlin his consort in the safety of his own bachelor chambers! Merlin, who was powerful beyond his imagination. Merlin, who won a war against thousand on his own. And yet he had chosen to stay and obey and wash Arthur’s socks, even when Arthur tossed them back at him later calling him lazy and complaining about the faintest remaining stains.

The same Merlin who had pushed him into Guinevere's arms time and again and standed aside, allowing him to marry someone who could be a proper spouse. The same Merlin who had sacrificed his own happiness in favor of Arthur’s, who did not say a word every time Arthur pushed him away and came back willingly whenever Arthur called him back into his arms and into his bed.

Arthur felt ashamed at how he had treated Merlin, how he had once forced himself on him, and Merlin had not raised a finger to stop him when he could have killed Arthur with a simple glare.

Arthur had no recollection of getting back on the saddle, his side mostly numb now. He did not know how much they had progressed when Merlin held his hand up, making Arthur stop his horse behind him.

“Saxons?” Arthur asked, hunched over himself in the saddle. It was easy to forget they were being pursued when there was so much going on inside his head.

Merlin did not seem to hear him, looking concentrated on something, as if he could see something Arthur could not.

“They're long gone,” Merlin stated confidently.

“How do you know?”

“I can... see the path ahead,” he said, as if it were no big deal.

Suddenly, Arthur remembered the journey to the Dark Tower, where Merlin had found the way out of the Impenetrable Forest. Also, how many times Merlin had claimed to have had a ‘funny feeling’ before? Arthur felt like he could laugh at his own stupidity. Somehow he managed to keep a straight face as he resorted to teasing to hide his astonishment. “So you're not an idiot. That was another lie.”

“No,” Merlin chuckled. He looked over his shoulder, his face playful, his tone light as he teased back. “It’s just another part of my charm.”

Arthur wished he could commit that face to his heart. He wished he could take this memory to the afterlife, if there was one. He felt a devastating longing towards his servant, towards his friend, his lover. He begun to wish he could survive, if only to do something right by him, for a change.

He knew it now, he had chosen wrong. He had loved Guinevere dearly and his love for her had been true to the point of breaking a strong love spell with a simple kiss, still Arthur was beginning to wonder if Merlin would not have been able to break it just as efficiently, if only Arthur had not been too blind to see it. It had taken over ten years to realize his true feelings.

Arthur was not sure what he would do with this knowledge now, anyway, even if he had the chance. What good would come by regretting his past decisions? He could not undo what he had done, he could not unmarry Guinevere, he had not been given another chance. All he had to do was face the consequences of all his wrongdoings. Yet, he could not help thinking it would be worth it, just to see Merlin smile that way again, and to be the cause of it.

It was near nightfall again when Merlin stopped him once more, apparently having heard a shout far ahead. He looked around. “In there,” Merlin said and lead the way to a secluded spot, where they dismounted and stood in waiting, hidden by the thick foliage. Not too long after that, three saxons on horseback appeared at the road they had just left.

Merlin spied them through the woods and Arthur watched him expectantly, even curiously. He heard Merlin whisper something and the fallen leaves on the floor flew to cover a footprint left in the mud, as if blown by the wind, although Arthur could feel no sudden gust of wind.

Merlin never looked back. He continued looking ahead while the saxons approached and the next moment, the trees from the other side of the road moved as if someone or something had shaken them.

“This way,” one of the saxons called the others and they left, chasing up ghosts.

For some reason, it filled Arthur with wonder that magic had saved them so easily. If it was any other sorcerer, there ought to be a bloodbath, but Merlin had simply tricked their pursuers into following the wrong trail.

“You've done this before,” Arthur stated, trying not to sound so dumbstruck as he felt.

How many times had Merlin insisted on staying by his side, saying he would protect him? How many times had he claimed that Arthur would not last a day without him? Arthur had always shrugged it off as teasing, given how hopeless Arthur believed him to be to save his own skin, always displaying too much bravery to be wise. Arthur only allowed Merlin to follow him because he craved the moral support, the reassuring company, their familiar bickering. Besides, Arthur had always had his own skills in too high an account, believing himself to be capable of defending them both, when all this time...

Merlin simply stared at him, neither confirming nor denying, but he did not have to say it.

“All these years, Merlin… You never once sought any credit.”

How could Arthur have been so foolish to think he had triumphed over sorcery all these years with nothing but his skill with a sword? With a convenient strike of luck, perhaps? How many times could someone get lucky in a lifetime? Had he really believed he had defeated Morgana all those times by himself? Had he not ever questioned why the army of undead had suddenly become a pile of bones again? Or the undying warriors of Cenred’s army, why had they suddenly become mortals once more?

Had he really defeated the Great Dragon? Had he even seen the creature’s dead body? Wasn’t Merlin capable of commanding a dragon to cease it’s attack?

“It's not why I do it,” Merlin answered, offering him a meaningful glance before mercilessly putting them on the move again.

Once again, Arthur remembered the sorceress’ words.  _ “There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men.” _ If that was true, if someone could use magic for good, this person was Merlin. He had the purest, most incorruptible heart.

And then something dawned on him. The sorceress. Arthur had seen something familiar in her and Merlin had been nowhere to be seen at the time. Arthur raised his head to look at the back of Merlin’s head, wondering if that was even possible. Could Merlin have gone to that extent to save Guinevere? Had he really turned himself into an old woman and summoned a pagan goddess just to save Guinevere? Had those words of wisdom come from him instead of a wise hermit sorceress?

Arthur wished he had the strength to ask Merlin, but if he was to be honest with himself, he did not need the confirmation. He could see it clearly now like never before.

.Merlin.

Arthur wished he could stay optimistic, but he was  _ so tired _ . So tired of hoping. Staying alive was so damned exhausting. He kept dozing on and off for a while, unable to even ask Merlin to stop. He did not realize he had slumped dangerously to the side of his horse until Merlin straightened him up.

“I can't go on,” Arthur said apologetically.

“There's not far to go,” Merlin pleaded. “We need to reach the lake before dawn.”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur shook his head, unable to keep his eyes open for too long. “No.”

“All right,” Merlin conceded, although reluctantly so. “We rest for an hour.”

Merlin helped him sit down against a fallen log and started a fire - this time with magic - and Arthur could not help but marvel at the way Merlin’s eyes shone when he did it.

“Your eyes,” Arthur commented stupidly.

“What?” Merlin asked, seeming clueless about what Arthur could be referring to.

Arthur lost himself for a moment in Merlin’s familiar features. He must have taken too long to answer, for Merlin frowned worriedly at him and felt Arthur’s forehead for a fever.

“Your eyes,” Arthur repeated. “They shine like gold when you use magic.”

_ It’s beautiful _ , Arthur thought. He had never thought about anything related to magic as beautiful, but how could something about Merlin be anything but?

Merlin looked away, seeming shy all of a sudden. Arthur wished to ask him to do it again, but Merlin turned his back on him to go back to their horses and Arthur was once again left to his own thoughts.

For more that he wished to live, he had to face the truth: he was dying. Chances were he would not survive another day. It was not a foreign concept for him. After all, he had been prepared to die for his Kingdom since a young age. Rather than fear it for himself, Arthur started to fear it for Merlin.

If Arthur had learned anything from the last two days ride, it was that Merlin had given up all he could be for Arthur. He had dedicated all he was to keep Arthur alive and make sure he had a future, however great he believed it to be. How would he deal with Arthur’s passing?

Arthur knew Merlin was struggling not to fall apart for his master's sake, holding back from showing his despair for losing him, holding on to the last shreds of hope for a cure Arthur probably would not survive long enough to get.

Arthur had to make sure he would move on.

Merlin came back with the water skin and helped Arthur to drinking some of it.

“Merlin,” Arthur called, his voice merely a whisper.

Merlin’s eyes fell instantly on him, wandering, searching. Arthur recognized his clinical eye and wished he had the strength to chastise Merlin for it, tease him, poke him until he had him laughing. Arthur had neither the force nor the time, though.

“Whatever happens-” Arthur started, but Merlin did not allow him to go any further.

“Shh…” He shook his head. “Don't talk.”

Arthur would have rolled his eyes if it did not take too much effort. Trust Merlin to force him into teasing anyway. “I'm the King, Merlin. You can't tell me what to do.”

Merlin chuckled. “I always have. I'm not going to change now.”

Arthur’s eyes set on Merlin’s lips again, his mind threatening to wander back to a time Merlin had laughed freely until Arthur kissed him silent and dreaming of doing it again. “I don't want you to change.” Arthur struggled to keep talking, every word taking its toll. “I want you… to always… be you.” Arthur had to force his head up when it kept lolling, cursing his own weakness. “I'm sorry about how I treated you.”

Arthur’s world spun for a moment before Merlin caught him, keeping him up.

“Does that mean you're gonna give me a day off?” Merlin said with forced playfulness.

“Two!” Arthur sighed, feeling drained - God, he was so tired - as if he had run too many miles on foot. His head was light from too much blood loss.

“That's generous.”

Arthur’s smile was weak as he kept struggling to keep himself awake. He never felt so frustrated. He had so much to say, yet he could not bring himself to do something as simple as keep his eyes open.

Arthur felt the pull of unconsciousness and tried to fight it, but it was stronger than him. He felt Merlin’s breah close to his skin, his hand on Arthur’s neck and thought it to be a loving caress before realizing he was dutifully checking his pulse.

“Get some sleep,” Arthur heard Merlin’s voice far away and he was out in no time.

He woke up with Merlin’s insistent shake. He blinked in and out of awareness all through their ride. He barely awoke when Merlin pulled him out of the horses and startled awake with the horses whinnying.

He raised his head to see Merlin trying to call them back, but it was too late. They were gone.

“Hello, Emrys.”

Arthur’s blood went cold when he heard Morgana’s voice and it nearly stopped at watching Merlin fly past him, thrown back by his sister’s magic.

With his heart beating fast, Arthur tried to reach for his sword, but it was nowhere within his reach. Arthur panicked for a while. Wasn’t it on the horse? Arthur laughed at his own pathetic attempt to fight back. He could not bring himself to lift his own arm, how could he use his sword, even if it were at its sheath as it should be?

“What a joy it is to see you, Arthur,” Morgana said as she approached him. “Look at you, not so tall and mighty now.” She crouched next to him and Arthur looked at her deranged smile. 

His fear was not for his own life - it was too late for him anyway - but for Camelot and Guinevere and Merlin - dear God, Merlin! Was he alright?

Morgana continued her speech, mindless of Arthur’s worries. “You may have won the battle, but you've lost the war. You're going to die by Mordred's hand. But don't worry, my dear brother, I won't let you die alone. I will stay and watch over you, until the wolves gorge on your carcass and bathe in your blood.”

Arthur wasn’t paying attention to her by the end of her hateful speech, for he could see Merlin behind her now, delightfully alive and unscathered, drawing Arthur’s sword without making a sound, his face somber.

“No,” Merlin said, making Morgana turn to face him, surprised, “the time for all this bloodshed is over. I blame myself for what you've become, but this has to end.”

“I am a High Priestess. No mortal blade can kill me,” Morgana said defiantly.

Merlin stabbed her nonetheless and Arthur gasped with the shock of seeing the bloodied tip of the blade showing from her back. Arthur watched breathlessly while her feet gave out and she grabbed Merlin’s arm to try and hold herself up.

Merlin kept her close as if embracing her, all the while keeping his eyes on her, showing no pleasure in his action. It reminded Arthur of a time he had suspected Merlin to be in love with Uther’s ward. It seemed to have happened a lifetime ago.

“This is no mortal blade,” Merlin said evenly. “Like yours, it was forged in a dragon's breath.”

He pushed the sword deeper still and Morgana gasped some more. Merlin lowered her to the ground as he withdrew the blade. She breathed shakily then, the blood pooling over her dress.

“Goodbye, Morgana,” Merlin said and watched as she took her final breath, her eyes becoming glassy and lifeless.

She was beautiful in death as she had been once, almost a lifetime before. She did not look crazy anymore. Arthur kept staring at her from over Merlin’s shoulder while he put Arthur’s arm around his own shoulder to help him up.

Arthur looked at Merlin then, smiling. “You've brought peace at last,” he marveled.

Merlin had ended the war once and for all. All by himself.

And he kept saying  _ Arthur  _ was the one destined to greatness.

“Come on,” Merlin said and grunted from taking most of his weight as they got up.

He handed Arthur’s sword back to him and Arthur held it as firm as he could, although he had to drag it along the way, unable to lift it up. No mortal blade, Merlin had said. Arthur had a flashing memory of the sword stuck in a rock, as if melted to it. He remembered hearing Merlin’s encouragements at his back as he concentrated to pull it out and suddenly it had come up easily. As if by magic.

Arthur would have laughed if he had the breath to.

“We have to make it to the lake,” Merlin pushed on, forcing Arthur to move ahead when they finally spotted the lake down the hill. So close, yet so far...

“Merlin…” Arthur’s legs gave out and he dropped on the ground, landing on Merlin's legs. “Not without the horses. We can't, it's too late. It's too late.”

Arthur placed his hand over Merlin’s trying to comfort him, trying to make him face it, but Merlin kept stubbornly trying to push him to a sitting position, grunting and panting all the way, refusing to let go.

“All your magic, Merlin, and you can't save my life,” Arthur reflected out loud upon the irony of their situation.

“I can,” Merlin insisted. “I'm not going to lose you.”

“Just, just…” Arthur patted his hand, trying to make him stop his useless efforts. “Just hold me. Please.”

Merlin finally stopped, breathing heavily close to Arthur’s ear, allowing Arthur to slip into something almost comfortable, with Merlin’s arms around him. He couldn’t feel most of his body now, it was almost like he was floating in the water, although it seemed to be pulling him down.

“There’s- There’s som-” Arthur struggled for breath until he finally managed it. “There's something I want to say.”

He was running out of time, he knew. There was so much to be said, but so little time left. Arthur spared a brief moment to think about how it could have been. How they could be laughing by the fire this evening, telling stories, bantering, holding onto each other… but it would never happen, Arthur knew now. He wished Merlin would accept that too.

Merlin refused to do so, though. “You're not going to say goodbye.”

“No, Merlin…” Arthur tuned to face him as much as their position and his armor would allow. “Everything you've done. I know now. For me, for Camelot.” Arthur frowned as his lungs refused to fill up enough for more than a couple of words at a time. “For the Kingdom you helped me build…”

“You'd have done it without me,” Merlin retorted.

Arthur’s chuckle came half-choked. “Maybe,” he conceded.

God, he could not stand the raw emotion on Merlin’s eyes, the desperation. He wished there was time. He wanted to tell Merlin not to fall apart, not to mourn him too much. He wanted to tell Merlin to move on with his life. He wanted to tell Merlin to forgive himself for letting him go. Perhaps he could finally get to be happy now that Arthur would set him free once and for all.

It was unfair, Arthur knew. He had the easiest part on this. He wasn’t the one being felt behind. Yet, he could not help but be grateful that he could spent his last conscious minutes cradled in Merlin’s arms. Merlin’s beloved face would be the last thing he would see and he did not wish for a better way to part than this.

“I want to say… something I've never said to you before…” Arthur said, adjusting his head to better look him in the eye.

_ I love you _ , Arthur though.

“Thank you,” he said instead, because what could his words mean when he had not been able to show Merlin just how strongly he felt for him?

Merlin had never said he loved Arthur, and yet he did not have to, because Arthur could feel it in the way he looked at him as if Arthur had hung the moon and the stars. He could feel it in the way Merlin looked at him just now, as if he would die a little if he lost him. He could feel it in the selfless way Merlin had cared for him all through those years. Arthur did not want to say some empty words just to ease his own conscience, to confess his own feelings, he had no time for this, so he thanked Merlin for his devotion.

Arthur’s arm weighed a ton as he reached up to scratch the back of Merlin’s head, wishing he was gloveless so that he could feel the softness of his hair one last time, wishing he could lean up and kiss him goodbye.  _ Thank you for loving me so thoroughly, even though I did not deserve it. _

He felt that strong pull towards unconsciousness again, this time too demanding to resist. The prospect of resting -  _ finally resting! _ \- was so tempting he was not even sure he  _ wanted  _ to hold back anymore. He was shaken awake by someone’s desperate cry.

“Stay with me,” Merlin asked.

_ Merlin, please let me go. It’s time _ , he tried to say, but the thought was far away, and the pull was getting stronger still, luring him for his well-deserved rest. So he let go.

He slept.

This time he did not wake for a long, long time.

.Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me a few words before you kill me, yeah? ^^'
> 
> Like I said in the beginning, there's an epilogue of sorts, but I posted it as a sequel. It's called "King of One".
> 
> Thank you all for reading and sending me words of love and hate (the latter mostly towards Arthur, which I can totally understand and relate ^^'). A special thank you to Lilyth369, for being so kind to me since chapter one!


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